










^/'^f 'M'Z 




UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. _ 1 






, 



INFLUENCE OF THE BIBLE 



IN IMPROVING THE 



UNDERSTANDING 



MORAL CHARACTER. 



BY JOHN MATTHEWS, D. D. 

President of the Theological Seminary at South Hanover, Indiana. 



WITH A 

PRELIMINARY ESSAY 

BY ALBERT BAR^^. '' J_9^ ';^- 

PHILADELPHIA: ^ 

HARRISON HALL — 47 SOUTH THIRD STREET. 

1833. 






- \ 



■-0 



yy^f. 



Entered according to act of congress, by Harrison 
Hall, in the year 1833, in the clerk's office of the district 
for the eastern district of Pennsylvania. 



A. WALDIE, PRINTER. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preliminary Essay, 7 

PART I. 

Sect. 1. — Self-examination improves the under- 
standing, 25 

Sect. II. — Exhibitions of wisdom improve the 

understanding, 43 

Sect. III. — Exhibitions of greatness improve 

the understanding, 74 

PART II. 

Sect. 1. — Economy and industry, taught in the 

Bible — promote human happiness, 95 

Sect. II. — Intemperance — Importance of truth, 
justice, honesty — Effects of sinful 
passions, 122 

Sect. III. — Discontentedness, peevishness; pious 

affections secure peace of mind, 150 

Sect. IV. — Meekness, forbearance, kindness, &c. 

promote human happiness, 179 

Sect. V. — The gospel furnishes support in afflic- 
tion — Influence of faith, hope and 
love, 205 

Sect. VI. — The religion of the Bible, the true 

happiness of man, 229 

1* 



PRELIMINARY ESSAY. 



The following work on the ^' Influence of 
the Bible on the intellectual and moral cha- 
acter" was originally published in numbers, 
in the Evangelical Magazine, conducted by 
the late Rev. Dr. Rice. It is now, with the 
consent of the author, collected and published 
in this form, with the hope of diffusing more 
extensively the views which it expresses in 
regard to an important influence of the Sa- 
cred Scriptures. 

The work, it will be perceived, is written 
in a chaste, correct, and manly style ; and 
the argument is one which, it is believed, has 
not been extensively pursued in the common 



books on the character and design of the Bi- 
ble. So prominent, and important is what 
may be called the decidedly religious influ- 
ence of the Bible; so direct is its aim to se- 
cure the conversion and salvation of men ; 
that its collateral, or incidental, influences 
are apt to be passed by or disregarded. The 
ministers of religion are, from the nature of 
their oflice, accustomed to present the former 
influence ; and there have been few who 
have been qualified or disposed to appreciate 
the latter. A splendid passing eulogium, like 
the celebrated commendation of Sir William 
Jones, on the eloquence, and sublimity, 
and fine writing of the sacred volume, is 
about all the tribute which intellectual men 
have been disposed to pay to the book of 
God. The human mind seems almost to 
have been satisfied with such a tribute ; and 
men, in cultivating their own intellects and 
moral feelings, have had recourse to other 
fountains of knowledge. They have lavished 
their encomiums on the ancient literary re- 
mains of other nations than the Jewish ; and 
have attributed the main or sole celebrity in 



writings of taste, poetry, and eloquence, to 
the states of Greece, or to the happier days 
of Ronae. One would almost fancy that there 
had been a studied effort, having some sort 
of resemblance to pious feeling, to maintain 
the point that the sacred writings were con- 
fined entirely to the business of religion ; and 
that to use them for any other purpose, or to 
introduce them into schools, or conversation, 
or writings of taste, as adapted to elevate the 
intellect, would be a kind of desecration and 
perversion from their high design. It can- 
not be denied that the cause of infidelity, and 
wickedness would gain much, if these opin- 
ions could be cherished. If the whole in- 
tellectual world, if all the regions of fancy, 
taste, and moral feeling, can be secured 
by the writings of men who are destitute 
of religion ; — if the impression can be 
kept up, that the Bible is to be confined 
simply to the iprowince o( religion^ scepticism 
would consider its object as substantially 
gained. In the view of most men, the reli- 
gious department of human conduct is very 
small and unimportant; and hence the de» 



10 

sire which has been felt to maintain the po- 
sition that the Bible is to be supposed capable 
of extending its influence over that depart- 
ment alone. It would augur most favourably 
for the advance of religion, if the human 
mind could be disabused of this belief which 
infidelity so much delights to cherish. And 
perhaps there would be no indirect way of 
spreading religion so effectual, as by the cir- 
culation of books adapted to show the intel- 
lectual and moral tendencies of the Bible. 
In all the departments of sacred learning, 1 
know of none that opens a finer field than an 
argument contemplating such an exhibition : 
and designed to show that the scriptures are 
adapted to all the original endowments of the 
human intellect, and fitted to satisfy the ut- 
most developements of the judgment ; the 
most delicate sensibility of taste ; the far- 
thest flights of the imagination ; and the 
loftiest contemplations of the human intellect. 
Such an argument could not be attempted in 
the limits of an introduction like this. A few 
mere hints are all that are allowable. 

The following observations will commend 



11 

themselves as true, and may serve as hints to 
aid such reflections. 

1. The Bible originated with a people 
who had little intercourse with other nations. 
No nation was ever more isolated than the 
Jew^s. What knowledge they had, and 
what they have exhibited in their books, was 
not exotic, but sprung up, from some cause, 
in the bosom of the nation itself. It is well 
known that the Grecian philosophers tra- 
velled extensively into foreign nations for the 
avowed purpose of gaining knowledge. But 
no Jew ever left his own land for this. It 
was the policy, as well as the religion of the 
nation, to remain separate from all other 
people ; and their poets, and prophets, and 
law-givers, never evinced the slightest doubt, 
that they had within themselves — whatever 
might be its source — all that was requisite to 
guide them in matters of state, of morals, and 
of religion. — The only qualification that 
could be made to this remark, would arise 
from their long residence in Egypt. But this 
applies only to the founder of the Jewish 
state, and not to the mass of the writers of 



12 

the Old and New Testaments. David, So- 
lomon, Isaiah, Jeremiah, &lc. were Jews ; and 
their views, now recorded in the Scriptures 
grew up in their own land — unformed by 
foreign influence, and unaided by foreign 
literature. 

2. The Bible originated with a people 
who made no pretensions to literature, and 
who possessed little science or refinement of 
manners. Their literature we have in the 
single volume which we call the Bible, it 
is the collection of all their history, their elo- 
quence, and their songs ; the writings of all 
their seers, sages, historians, and bards. Yet 
there are here no pretensions to science; 
and no evidence that they surpassed, or even 
equalled, the writings of other past nations. 
If we look for beautiful productions in the 
arts, we cast our eyes not to Judea, but to 
Greece. If we ask for profound investiga- 
tions on moral and intellectual subjects, we 
go at once to Athens. If we wish to ascer- 
tain the result of rich and profound investi- 
gation into the laws of nature, we look to 
modern times, and are amazed at the disco- 



13 

veries of reason in the various departments 
of science. For none of these things do we 
look to ancient Judea ; and in none of these 
points would a modern philosopher be likely 
to refer to the writings of prophets or apos- 
tles. 

3. Yet, if the Bible be a revelation from 
God, it is clear that it would be adapted to 
the human mind in all stages of society, and 
in all advances of the sciences and the arts. 
It is to be fitted to the race as such ; and it 
becomes a very interesting enquiry whether 
this has been kept in view by the Author of 
the book of revealed truth. Are views of 
science and mental philosophy recorded 
there which are totally at variance with all 
modern science, and with all the established 
laws of mind? When we read an ancient 
book of philosophy, or medicine, or science, 
we are constantly compelled to encounter 
positions which modern science has ascer- 
tained to be false. Even the works of Lord 
Bacon cannot be perused without melan- 
choly reflections on his now obvious errors 
in regard to many of the main facts in the 
2 



14 

physical and mental sciences. The litera- 
ture of no nation, and no period of the world, 
can be examined for a lapse of time equal to 
that which intervened between Moses and 
the death of the Apostle John, without meet- 
ing with the supposed establishment and suc- 
cessive overthrow of several systems of 
morals, and science ; without numerous 
contradictory statements, and fluctuations of 
opinions in those subjects — probably without 
much angry controversy. Even in books 
which have no professed reference to those 
subjects, the influence will be seen to have 
insinuated itself, and to have diffused its spi- 
rit, or its direct doctrines. 

4. Another fact pertains to most of the 
writings of men. They are adapted to a 
particular class, or age ; and having per- 
formed their ofliice they are laid aside. One 
class is composed for men of science ; ano- 
ther for the department of morals ; another to 
occupy the regions of fancy. They are 
formed for a particular age or time, and out 
of their sphere, they are useless. Books for 
the race are rare — books that will be read 



15 

with equal interest in all climes, and by all 
classes of men. There is some reason to 
think that Shakespeare is almost the only au- 
thor whose writings have this characteristic 
of universality. And of all nations we should 
probably have least expected this character- 
istic of the writings of the Jews. No people 
ever had more feelings that were exclusive, 
or that less sympathised with the common 
habits and sentiments of mankind. 

5. Yet the Bible is adapted to the science 
of all times. It contradicts none of the dis- 
coveries of modern science ; it advances no 
theory which stands in the way of its univer- 
sal advancement. — Nay, it prepares the way 
for those discoveries. After reading the Bi- 
ble, and contemplating its sublime descrip- 
tions of the Great Creator ; its lofty flights 
of poetry in describing his perfections, and its 
account of the magnificence of the v/ork of 
creation, we are prepared to contemplate the 
discoveries of modern astronomy. The sys- 
tem of worlds which the modern astronomy 
has revealed to our view, is just such an one 
as the scripture account of the character of 



16 

God, and of the work of creation, would lead 
us to expect, and prepare us to appreciate. 
What a striking discordance would be ob- 
served between the Bible account of the 
work of creation, and the limited and narrow 
system of the universe presented in the an- 
cient views of astronomy. 

One other observation cannot fail to strike 
us. It is that the language of the sacred 
writers is so employed as to be adapted to all 
the advances of science. It is capable of such 
an extension or amplitude of meaning as to 
cover the whole ground. At the same time 
that it conveyed definite notions to the Jews 
according to their views of science, it is 
equally adapted to convey distinct, though 
greatly enlarged views to us according to our 
views of science. For example, the expres- 
sion " The heavens declare the glory of God", 
" day unto day uttereth speech and night 
unto night showeth knowledge," would con- 
vey a distinct and sublime conception to any 
mind that had ever contemplated the heavens. 
The language is adapted to convey that under 
any system of astronomy. But the language 



17 

is equally adapted to the state of the science 
as it now exists. And to a mind in modern 
times, under the advantage of the discoveries 
of modern astronomy, how much more im- 
pressive and enlarged is the view which this 
language conveys to him than it could have 
been when the expression was first used by 
the Psalmist. One of the greatest improve- 
ments in the practical effects of reading the 
Bible in the advanced periods of the world 
may result from attaching the ideas of future 
discovery to the language used long since 
adapted to that age and to this, conveying dis- 
tinct and sublime expressions iAen, and deep- 
ening those impressions now by the additional 
beauty and sublimity of the discoveries 
which man shall make in the works of God. 
6. The same remark may be made in regard 
to mental science. The true system of mental 
philosophy will yet be found to have been ex- 
pressed by the writers of the Old and New 
Testaments. All other systems have had a 
theory to defend, and have fluctuated with 
the change of theory, or have fallen. All 
other systems have left the operations of mind 
2"^ 



in religion out of view, and have had an es- 
sential, and an ultimately destructive defect. 
The operations of mind in religion are as im- 
portant, and as really the operations of mind, 
as on any other subject. Those operations 
the Scriptures have detailed. They have 
presented man as he is ; and as the best way 
of learning the true science of mental philo- 
sophy is to study mff?i, so the best mode of 
gaining that knowledge from books is from 
those which are most in accordance with na- 
ture. No other book presents man as he is, 
but the Bible. Here is no varnishing, no dis- 
guise, no deception. And perhaps mental phi- 
losophers may yet learn, what they have been 
slow yet to apprehend, that the study o^God'^s 
revealed views of 7nan may conduce to a cor- 
rect knowledge of the human mind far more 
than any mere theory of philosophy. 

7. With equal truth these remarks might be 
extended to political science. To whatever 
causes it may be attributed, it is certain that 
from no book are to be derived so elevated 
views of the rights of man, as from the sacred 
scriptures. The circulation of the Bible has 



19 

been the most certain way of diffusing just 
views of liberty, and of the nature of civil 
government. The amount of true liberty 
in the world might be designated with great 
certainty on a map, by drawing a line around 
those regions where the Scriptures have had 
the most free and extensive circulation. For 
this it would be easy to suggest causes, which 
will probably occur at once to most persons. 
But i\\efact is known to all ; and one great 
truth, from that fact, is pressing itself on the 
attention of this generation, that the true way 
of teaching all men their rights, of diffusing 
the love of liberty, and of putting an end to 
tyranny, is to diffuse over all the world the 
sacred scriptures. 

8. These remarks are made as introductory 
simply to the following work; a work design- 
ed to illustrate the influence of the Bible on 
the understanding of man. The whole of 
this influence is indeed incidental-^ yet it natu- 
rally results from the main design of the 
Bible, to raise up man to purity, and heaven, 
and to make the most of the lapsed human 
powers. With this design, it was indispensa- 



20 

ble that the plan should be adapted to mind 
in any of its developemcnts; to be in advance 
of the human intellect at any stage of the 
recovering process ; and to be fitted to en- 
large, guide, and exalt the powers of man, in 
whatever stage of intellectual advancement 
it might find him. It has not failed. Mind 
it finds fallen ; but fallen mind, whether re- 
covered from the degradation of the CafFra- 
rian, or whether revelling amid the creations 
of its own genius like Milton or Cowper; or 
whether in profound meditation like Boyle, or 
Bacon, or Locke ; or whether measuring dis- 
tant worlds like Newton, the Bible has shown 
its power to enlarge, and to elevate. It is 
still in advance of man, and will evince its 
power to satisfy the demands of the human 
intellect, as really as to sanctify and console 
the human heart. 

It is not denied, indeed, that its main de- 
sign is to propose to fallen man a plan of re- 
demption. With reference to this, should 
be the main purpose of its perusal. In what 
way it should be perused in order most efifect- 
ually to secure this design, would demand a 



21 

more protracted statement than is allowable 
in this Introduction. A few simple hints 
only can be offered: — 1. It should be studied. 
It is an ancient book, and of course, many 
things require attentive thought and enquiry 
to understand them. 2. It should be studied 
regularly. It is believed that not much profit 
will be derived from it, unless it be made a 
part of the business of hfe. 3. It should be 
studied with prayer, God has given this book; 
he only can open the heart to understand 
practically his own will, and dispose the 
mind to follow it. 4. It should be studied 
with all the helps that may be accessible to 
understand the geography, customs and his- 
torical events referred to in the Bible. 5. It 
should be studied systematically and in order. 
Great facility will be found where a harmony 
of the Old Testament, or the New, can be 
procured, and the various portions of the 
Bible be read in the order of time in which 
they were written. 6. Different portions of 
the Scriptures are to be read for different 
objects. Though not systematically arrang- 
ed, yet there are portions that are fitted to a 



22 

particular state of mind. For the deep calm 
purposes^of devotion, a Christian naturally 
looks to the book of Psalms, and finds his 
feelings expressed in the words of the sweet 
singers of Israel. For doctrinal instruction, 
one naturally turns to the Epistles to ascer- 
tain the statement of the details of the Chris- 
tian scheme. To see how piety was exempli- 
fied in its highest state, and scenes of obloquy, 
and persecution, we naturally recur to the 
Gospels, exhibiting it in the example of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. To ascertain the evi- 
dences of personal religion, the Gospel and 
Epistles of John are particularly adapted. 
If it be asked to what part of the Bible shall 
an anxious enquirer look to know what he 
must do to be saved, we should still direct 
him also pre-eminently to the Gospel of John. 
On this point enquirers often err. Ignorant of 
the Bible, they take it up and open it at ran- 
dom, and they may be directed to the path of 
life. But they commonly need some direct, 
simple, and plain statement of the elements 
of the way of return to God ; and perhaps if 
most anxious sinners could be confined in 



23 

their attention to the third chapter of the 
Gospel by John, it would do more than all 
human teaching can do, in conducting them 
to the Saviour. 

ALBERT BARNES. 



Philadelphia, October, 1833. 



PART I. 



SECTION I. 

Self-examination improves the understanding. 

The great design of the Bible is to quahfy 
men for the life to come ; yet in producing 
this effect, it is pleasing to know and observe 
the direct and powerful tendency which it 
possesses and exerts in qualifying them for 
respectability and usefulness in this life. 
When it is understood and received in the 
love of it, the character, both intellectual 
and moral, will be improved ; and under its 
influence and its guidance, those habits will 
be formed on which the happiness and pros- 
perity of civil society very much depend. If 
it could be divested of its spiritual tenden- 
cies, of its influence in producing that holi- 
ness^ without which no inan shall see the Lord, 
it is still worthy of our grateful acknow- 



26 

ledgment on account of its numerous and 
benign effects on human life. 

It will contribute very much to the im- 
provement of the understanding. The mind, 
as well as the body, will acquire habits from 
the frequent repetition of the same exercises. 
Those parts of the body which are em- 
ployed in the performance of w^ork, requir- 
ing strength, will acquire an enlargement 
and firmness of muscle, fitting them for the 
task, which, without this exercise they would 
not possess, and which will render them 
rather disproportionate to the other parts of 
the same body. Instances of this kind come 
under the observation of every person. Such 
is also the case wnth the mind ; its vigour 
and enlargement depend very much on its 
habitual exercise. If circumstances confine 
its operations to but few objects, and these 
requiring but little intellectual effort to un- 
derstand them, the mind will be contracted 
in its capacity, and feeble in its powers. 
But if the objects about which it is em- 
ployed are diversified and difficult of com- 
prehension, the mind w-ill become enlarged, 
and its faculties will be strengthened. Some 
minds, indeed, possess a native, restless, irre- 
pressible vigour which will burst through the 
restraints thrown around it by the most un- 
favourable circumstances. You might as 



27 

well expect to suppress the subterranean 
fountains from bursting forth, and urging 
their way to the wide ocean, or to quiet that 
ocean with a word, as to expect that such a 
mind will rest till it finds its own element: 
it will struggle, it will rise until it reaches a 
theatre presenting it with objects which will 
give it, at once, employment, delight, and 
improvement. In general, however, the in- 
tellectual character of man depends on the 
circumstances with which he is surrounded. 
The objects to which the mind is habitually 
applied impart to it something of their own 
character. — If they are few and simple, they 
will contract and enfeeble the mind ; if nu- 
merous and complicated, they will enlarge 
and strengthen it ; if grand and sublime, they 
will give it a pleasing elevation and expan- 
sion. 

For this reason classical studies should hold 
their place in literary institutions. They 
are valuable, not on account of the useful 
and practical information which they furnish, 
but for the mental discipline which they give ; 
for the habits of discrimination and logical 
reasoning which the student acquires ; habits 
which cannot fail to be highly useful in every 
department of life, in every exercise of the 
understanding. For this reason the science 
of astronomy is always delightful and im- 



28 

proving; the order, the connection, the gran- 
deur of the objects embraced in this study 
cannot fail to elevate and expand the mind. 

On this principle it is, we affirm that the 
Bible will improve the intellectual character 
of the Christian. The objects which it pre- 
sents to his consideration, and about which 
his thoughts must be, with more or less in- 
terest, employed, are numerous, complicated, 
and beyond conception grand and sublime. 
Their number will give variety to the exer- 
cise of his mind ; their complex nature will 
increase the power of discrimination, and 
strengthen the reasoning faculty ; their infi- 
nite magnitude and importance, their attract- 
ive majesty and glory will give a conscious 
and pleasing elevation and enlargement to 
the whole soul. 

The Christian is required to be ready al- 
ways to give an answer to every man that 
asketh him, a reason of the hope that is in him, 
with meekness and fear. This implies that 
all genuine religious hope is supported by 
certain reasons, or evidence, with which he 
is to become acquainted, and which he is to 
ascertain, not by intuition, nor by miracle, 
nor by any immediate revelation from God, 
but by frequently and closely investigating 
his own heart, with all its varied and com- 
plicated exercises and emotions. He is also 



29 

required to examine himself whether he be 
in the faith, to know and to prove himself. 
Examination, with a view to a correct de- 
cision, implies the comparison of various 
things with each other, and with some ac- 
knowledged standard. Were there no spu- 
rious exercises of a religious nature, none 
which so nearly resemble the true, as, with- 
out the strictest investigation, to endanger 
the great interests of the soul, this examina- 
tion would be unnecessary. But this is not 
the case ; there are such spurious exercises 
of the heart : every feature of the Christian 
character has its counterfeit. The object of 
examination is to discriminate between the 
spurious and the genuine exercise, between 
the true feature and its mere resemblance. 
He is to examine whether his faith be the 
living word of God, with all its energies, 
transferred and rooted in the soul, working 
by love, purifying the heart, overcoming the 
world ; or a mere painting of fancy, nothing 
but the images and workings of the imagina- 
tion, or nothing but a collection of ideas, 
without any transforming effect on the heart 
and on the life. The true Christian loves 
God. But he is not to admit, without im- 
partial enquiry, that every emotion which he 
feels, that every joyous glow which warms 
his heart, is that love. He must ascertain 
3* 



30 " 

whether its principle is selfish, or spiritual 
and generous ; whether it regards the whole 
character of God, displayed through the 
cross of Christ in the salvation of sinners, 
or merely what is supposed to be the mercy 
of God, but which in truth is little more 
than a human weakness, and especially 
whether it leaves him satisfied with a par- 
tial observance of only some few precepts 
of the gospel, or by its holy and ceaseless 
workings, prompts him to sincere and uni- 
form obedience to all the will of God, to the 
whole system of Christian duty. He is to 
love his fellow-christians, not because they 
hold the same creed, and belong to the same 
denomination with himself, but because they 
bear the image of their common Saviour. 
In like manner, every other afifection of his 
heart is to be submitted to the same scru- 
tiny ; his repentance, gratitude, meekness, 
(Szc. 

In this investigation he not only compares 
these feelings with each other, but he com- 
pares them with the word of God, which 
he adopts as the standard, the only infallible 
Judge in such cases. There he learns the 
nature of all affections truly devout ; there he 
learns the effect they will have on the tem- 
per of his mind, and on his life ; he there 
hears the voice of the Spirit, testifying what 



31 

are the characteristic features of a child of 
God. With this he compares the witness 
of his own spirit, obtained by this careful 
investigation ; if they agree together, he con- 
cludes that he is a child of God. On this 
concurrent testinnony of his own spirit and 
the spirit of God his hope rests as its found- 
ation ; this is the reason which he is ready 
to give for the hope which he entertains of 
acceptance with God, and of final salvation. 
Again ; although the precepts of the Bible 
are remarkable for their plainness and ex- 
tent, yet a thousand cases will occur for 
which there is no explicit direction. To 
expect this in the Bible would be most 
unreasonable ; such instructions would swell 
the volume to an useless size. Circumstan- 
ces may often surround the Christian, in 
which he is compelled to act, which require 
much deliberation to discover what course 
he ought to pursue. Jn this state he is often 
conscious of painful suspense ; and, if per- 
mitted, would offer up the prayer that a 
voice from heaven would decide the doubtful 
case, or that a pillar of cloud would move 
in the direction he ought to take. Neither 
voice nor cloud, however, decides the case. 
Inclination may prove an unsafe guide, and 
lead him widely astray. He must consider, 
he must compare, he must reason, he must 



32 

judge for himself where the path of duty hes. 
He will keep in view the great principles of 
Christian morals laid down in the gospel •, 
he will consider what aid can be derived 
from the example of the Saviour ; he will 
reflect on the tendency of the proposed 
course, the effect it will probably have on 
others, and on the interests of the church ; 
he will especially anticipate, as near as pos- 
sible the decision of his omniscient Judge. 
Thus he will deliberate ; and finally take 
that course for which there is the greatest 
weight of reason, which he judges to be upon 
the whole, best. Sometimes as he advances, 
he is more and more cheered with the con- 
viction that his decision was correct, that he 
escaped from his difficulties by the right 
direction; sometimes he advances with pain- 
ful hesitancy; and sometimes he is convinced 
that, though honest in his enquiries, yet he 
was mistaken in his conclusion. 

Now we maintain that this is as real a 
process of reasoning as the acquisition of 
language, or the study of science ; and that 
it is as well calculated to improve the intel- 
lectual faculties as either of these are. The 
method of reasoning, and of reaching the 
conclusion, as far as the nature of the case 
will admit, is the method of Newton. That 
great philosopher took nothing for granted 



33 

which could be tested by experiment ; he 
built no theories on mere conjecture, drew 
no important conclusions from mere assump- 
tion. His conclusions were derived from 
principles well established; while evidence 
derived from experiments, from analogy, 
and from induction supported his principles. 
This is the method of the Christian ; he 
takes nothing for granted ; his conclusions do 
not rest on mere assumption or conjecture. 
He has the advantage of an experience both 
extensive and diversified. His whole life is 
a scene of trials ; and every trial brings his 
principles to the test of experience. By this 
experience he obtains much valuable know- 
ledge, becomes wiser, and better qualified for 
future usefulness. The conclusion that he 
is a child of God, and his hope of accept- 
ance, rest on the evidence of induction from 
a number of particulars. Indeed this is as 
complete an exemplification of this method 
as can be found in the whole range of phi- 
losophy. His faith, his love, his repentance, 
his gratitude, &;c. are all examined separately; 
but his conclusion and his hope do not rest 
on the evidence furnished by either of these 
alone ; but on that furnished by all of them 
combined. Newton, convinced that every 
effect must have an adequate cause, often 
discovered the cause by considering the 



34 

effect : and having ascertained the nature 
and properties of the cause, with safety in- 
ferred the effect which would result from its 
operation. This is pre-eminently the method 
of the Christian. He who believes that the 
grass and the flowers of the field receive 
their nicest tints and diversified hues of co- 
louring from the pencil of divine skill, that a 
sparrow cannot fall to the ground without 
the special design of Heaven, cannot, and 
does not believe that the devout affections 
and pious dispositions of his heart are the 
result of chance or of accident. All these 
affections are distinctly traced to the word 
of God, as their instrumental cause. The 
rejoicing of his hope is produced by the 
doctrine of the atonement ; the love which 
warms his heart and cheers his journey 
through life is kindled by the truth, that God 
is love ; that reverence which bows his soul 
within him is the effect of beholding the 
majesty and holiness of the Great Jehovah, 
Having learned the nature and tendency 
of this truth, he calculates with certainty on 
all the various and happy effects it will pro- 
duce on the minds of others. This conclu- 
sion inspires him with zeal to diffuse the 
knowledge of this truth through the earth, 
and to bring all men to feel its power in re- 
forming the heart and the life. When he 



35 

hears of the repentance of a sinner, even in 
the remotest corner of the earth, on the 
principles of analogy, he knows what those 
feelings are, and by what means they are 
excited. Newton sometimes generalised ; 
that is, ascribed varions effects to the same 
cause. The planets, so various in magnitude 
and the velocity with which they move, at 
such immense distances from each other and 
from their common centre, are bound to- 
gether in one complete and harmonious sys- 
tem by the principle of attraction. This 
same principle holds together the particles 
of this earth, gives to it its solidity and figure, 
and causes all the detached bodies with 
which it is surrounded to adhere to its sur- 
face. This same principle of attraction 
unites together, with more or less firmness 
of cohesion, the particles of every species, 
and every separate piece of matter. This 
great principle pervades, unites, and governs, 
subordinate to the design of the Supreme 
Ruler, the whole material universe, from 
the sun in the centre, to the remotest planet 
which revolves around him, even to the 
wandering comet which flies off into distant 
regions, where human observation cannot 
reach. Every species and shape which 
matter assumes, from the mightiest globe to 
the smallest atom, feel and obey its power. 



36 

How striking is the analogy between this 
attraction and the Christian's faith ! Jesus 
Christ is the sun and centre of the Christian 
systen:!, of the moral universe. All Chris- 
tians are united to him by faith ; by the same 
faith they are united to each other. They 
may live in ages and in regions of this world 
widely remote from each other ; but united 
by this principle, they are members of one 
body, are formed into one system, compose 
one family. By the same faith, through the 
atoning blood of a Divine Saviour, they 
obtain the pardon of sin, acceptance and 
reconciliation with God. While this faith 
pervades and unites the whole system, it 
operates, in the hands of God the Spirit, 
with vital and transforming energy in the 
heart of each individual. By the word of 
God, the knowledge and belief of which is 
faith, the soul is begotten, or quickened, 
when dead in trespasses and in sins, is 
roused from a state of insensibility, the first 
impression of spiritual things is made, a new 
direction is given to the thoughts, and a new 
impulse to the feelings. By the word of 
God the Christian is born again ; by faith 
his heart is purified ; by faith he walks, or 
regulates his life ; by faith he sees and feels 
the importance of spiritual realities ; by faith 
he overcomes the world ; by the power of 



37 

God through faith he is kept unto salvation. 
The effects of attraction in the material sys- 
tem, are not more numerous, important and 
diversified, than are those of faith in the 
Christian system. In perfect accordance 
with the design of him who worketh all 
things after the counsel of his own will, this 
principle unites all the countless millions of 
the redeemed to each other and to Christ, 
through whom it obtains their pardon and 
acceptance with God ; in each individual, 
separately, its reforming energy is felt ; all 
the faculties of his soul, all the affections of 
his heart, all the ceaseless workings and 
movements of his thoughts, feel its purifying 
and decisive control. Newton, on every 
side, and at no great distance, met with bar- 
riers over which he could not pass, beyond 
which his investigations could not with suc- 
cess, be carried. He assured his disciples 
that there existed, in the material universe, 
a principle which he called attraction ; but 
that he could not define to them the abstract 
principle, otherwise than by its effects. He 
told them that there were properties of mat- 
ter so recondite as to baffle all his efforts to 
detect and describe them. When he came 
to these barriers, with a noble modesty, he 
acknowledged his inability to proceed far- 
ther: he would not amuse their credulity 
4 



38 

with mere conjectures respecting the dark 
regions, forbidden to human enquiry. This 
acknowledgment evinces the greatness of his 
mind as clearly as do the numerous and 
important discoveries which he made. Yet 
on this account his system is not rejected. 
The facts which he ascertained by experi- 
ment, the principles which he illustrated 
and proved from their effects, are all admitted 
and received. The Christian also states his 
facts, ascertained from numerous and various 
experiments ; he offers, in support of his 
principles, illustrations and proofs, as satis- 
factory to the candid mind, as those of 
mathematics. Within certain hmits his 
vision and his comprehension are clear ; be- 
yond those limits, he acknowledges there 
are some things incomprehensible. He be- 
lieves in the existence and operations of the 
Holy Spirit, though he can comprehend 
neither his existence nor the manner of his 
operations. He feels and he witnesses im- 
portant and numerous effects which he as- 
cribes to this agency, and for which this be- 
lief furnishes a satisfactory account. Why 
should the wisdom of this world show itself 
by rejecting this system or any part of it, 
for reasons which bear with equal, if not 
greater force against the Newtonian system ? 
Why should more be expected from the ad- 



39 

vocate of Christianity than is expected from 
Newton ? In both systems there is a series 
of well authenticated facts ; in both there are 
many things perceived and comprehended 
with sufficient clearness to answer all useful 
purposes ; in both are some things incompre- 
hensible, which can be known only by their 
effects. Let both systems be viewed with 
the same unjaundiced eye, and modesty will 
induce these wise men to admit and receive 
both. Finally ; Newton laid down^r^^jonVi- 
ciples from which he never departed ; and 
which aided and guided him in all his inves- 
tigations. By these he catechised every new 
phenomenon which met his observation, 
until he ascertained its origin, the cause 
by which it was produced, and the class 
to which it belonged, if once satisfied on 
these particulars, the fact or the discovery 
was laid up for usefulness in future, as occa- 
sion might require. But if no satisfactory 
account could be obtained, the matter is left 
for the present, and no use is made of it. 
Thus he proceeded with safety, and made 
those large additions to the stock of useful 
knowledge which have crowned his name 
with deserved and lasting renown. The 
Bible contains the Jirst principles of the 
Christian. By these he is directed and aided 
in all his enquiries ; examines all the aspects 



40 

which religion assumes: all the various and 
conflicting opinions and customs which pre- 
vail in this mutable world ; tries the exer- 
cises of his own heart, and the actions of his 
own life ; judges the profession and the life 
of others. In this balance he weighs the 
world that now is, and that which is to 
come. All that meets the approbation of 
this judge, he receives and treasures up for 
usefulness in future ; that which appears 
doubtful, he lets remain for farther con- 
sideration; that which is condemned, he ut- 
terly rejects and avoids. Hence he loves 
this book, and esteems it more precious than 
treasures of gold. Thus he advances along 
the journey of life, passes through its tempt- 
ations and its snares, bears its afflictions and 
trials with safety ; and thus he will receive, 
if not the admiration and applause of this 
world, what is infinitely more important, the 
blessing and approbation of God, his Judge. 
Such is the field of investigation presented 
to the Christian, and such the exercise fur- 
nished to his understanding in proving him- 
self, in keeping his heart, in guarding against 
deception, in building himself up in the 
comfort of hope, in ascertaining the path of 
his duty. Nor is this exercise of the intel- 
lect, this process of reasoning to be carried 
on merely for a day or a year; but for every 



41 

day and every year of his life. Every day 
the movements of his heart are to be watch- 
ed and examined ; every day the path of 
duty is to be sought and pursued through all 
the perplexing and changing circumstances 
which may diversify his life. Without this 
he cannot feel that joy and peace which 
cheer and encourage him to persevere ; he 
cannot be useful to the church ; he deserves 
not the name of Christian. 

Now we think it evidently appears, that 
if the study of philosophy, according to the 
principles of Newton, is calculated to im- 
prove the understanding, so is the study of 
the Bible, more especially when it thorough- 
ly penetrates the soul with its living power. 
The Christian may know nothing of philoso- 
phy, or of its principles ; yet in working out 
his own salvation, his enquiries and his con- 
clusions are according to these principles. 
He d es not make these enquiries and pursue 
this course with the design of improving his 
intellectual faculties ; the improvement of 
his heart is the great object; yet in pursuing 
this purpose, his understanding is necessarily 
exercised in such a manner, as cannot fail 
to improve it. Thousands may be engaged 
in the study of philosophy, whose object is 
not the improvement of the mind, but to 
quahfy themselves for usefulness, to gain a 
4:* 



42 

subsistence, or to gratify their own taste or 
inclination ; yet from such study, the mind 
will necessarily derive improvement. It is 
not the design of the industrious mechanic 
to enlarge and strengthen those parts of the 
body which are habitually employed; yet 
this will be the result of such employment. 
By this discipline the faculty of perception 
will be quickened, the power of discrimina- 
tion and correct decision will be strengthened. 
The Christian may know nothing of the 
name or the meaning of metaphysics ; but 
he is in reality a metaphysician. He is 
habitually employed about abstract ideas, 
addressed, not to his senses, but to his un- 
derstanding. Mind, and its operations, en- 
gage his close and constant attention. Thus 
while his object is to prepare himself for 
heaven, to secure for himself a crown of life, 
his understanding brightens and improves by 
the means which he uses to gain that high 
and holy purpose. 



43 
SECTION II. 

Exhibitions of Wisdom improve tlic understanding. 

Exhibitions of wisdom, in harmonising real 
and apparent discordancies, and arranging 
and bringing into operation, a series of means 
for the accomphshment of some great and 
good purpose, always furnish a pleasing and 
improving exercise to the understanding. In 
considering such displays, we make more or 
less effort to follow the operations of that 
mind whose wisdom we behold, in its deli- 
berations, its arrangements and designs. If 
there is hope of success in the attempt, we 
exert our understanding to comprehend these 
operations, and thus to equal the wisdom 
which we contemplate ; or if this appears 
impracticable, we admire that greatness 
which we can neither equal nor compre- 
hend. Such efforts will never fail to improve 
the mind which makes them. 

That the material creation displays, in a 
high degree, the wisdom of God, is univer- 
sally admitted. Every part of matter, ani- 
mate and inanimate, from the insect of an 



44 

hour, to the mightiest orb that pursues its 
majestic round in the heavens, manifests a 
wisdom worthy of the great Creator. But 
while this is readily admitted, we affirm, 
without hesitation, because we solemnly be- 
lieve it, that the cross of Christ furnishes a 
display of wisdom as much greater than this, 
as the heavens are higher than the earth, as 
mind is superior to matter. In its finest and 
purest state, matter is too gross to receive 
and display the greatest exhibitions of wis- 
dom : an intelligent being, a moral agent 
alone can answer this purpose. From the 
hands of an artist, a block of wood may re- 
ceive the shape, but never can receive the 
polish of the finest marble, or the purest 
metal. In the material creation, there is 
nothing but mere inert, unresisting matter to 
arrange and to govern : but in the moral 
world, there is intellect, with its own designs 
and decisions to manage ; there is thought to 
guide ; there is passion, affection and dispo- 
sition to control. An artist can give form 
and proportion, and almost breath and ani- 
mation, to the marble and to the canvass. 
But the marble has no design of its own to 
change and to govern, makes no objection, 
offers no opposition to his will : the colours 
form no scheme to thwart and disappoint his 
design, but dwell on the canvass in that 



45 

proportion of light and shade, which he is 
pleased to give them. But how widely dif- 
ferent, and how much more difficult is the 
task, to form a moral character after a given 
pattern ! Let the experiment be made on a 
child and let it commence from the very 
cradle. Let the pattern after which it is to 
be formed be taken from the world ; one 
whose heart is untouched and unreformed 
by the gospel : one of the best specimens of 
morality without vital piety. In accom- 
plishing this task, it is not unintelligent, 
unresisting, matter that is to be formed and 
proportioned ; but there is an intelhgent 
being, an unfolding mind, with all its own 
views, conclusions and designs to manage : 
here is a ceaseless flow of thought to direct, 
and direct too at every hour; here spring- 
ing up from within, are passions, desires, 
hopes and fears, combined in a thousand 
diversified forms and degrees, to control. All 
parents who have been faithful to their chil- 
dren ; all instructors of youth, who are wor- 
thy the useful and honourable station which 
they fill, will anticipate much that might be 
said on this subject ; and will unite in declar- 
ing, as the result of their experience, that 
the task is extremely difficult, and in most 
cases, surpassed their utmost skill and perse- 
verance. Still more difficult would it be to 



46 

change a character already formed after a 
model, the reverse of that which you wouM 
wish it to be. Seldom, indeed, does the wis- 
dom and benevolence of man succeed in 
this attempt. The hard lessons of adversity, 
the recoil of past folly and imprudence, 
sometimes effect considerable changes for 
the better. But in general, the character 
thus formed remains and is confirmed to the 
last. The thoughts and passions, the most 
essential features of moral character, with 
extreme reluctance forsake their accustomed 
channel, to ffow in one entirely new. To 
form the character of a child after the model 
of the gospel, is as much more difficult than 
the former case, as the morality of the gos- 
pel is more pure and more perfect, than that 
of the world. In this attempt, insurmount- 
able obstacles meet and frustrate the best 
directed efforts of human agency. Most of 
all is it difficult to change a character, form- 
ed and confirmed by the practice and indul- 
gence of many years in vice and sin, and 
bring it to bear the image of Jesus Christ. 
Among the best efforts which man can make 
,r, with this view, are his humble confessions 

!i of utter inability, and his earnest prayers for 

1 that divine power which alone can answer 

this purpose. Now, this is the very change 
which the gospel proposes, and which the 



47 

gospel accomplishes, in every case where it 
is cordially received. 

While, therefore, the world of matter gives 
bright and striking displays of the divine wis- 
dom, far brighter and more striking are the 
displays of that wisdom, furnished in the cross 
of Christ. The gospel is truly and emphati- 
cally the wisdom of God. We admire the 
wisdom of creation; we more than admire, 
we adore, the wisdom of redemption. 

Every department of nature will amply 
repay the dihgent student of her mysteries 
with the improvement of his understanding, 
and with the benefits to mankind which often 
result from his investigations. The physician 
has a field of enquiry more than sufficient to 
engage his attention through life, in the ana- 
tomy and diseases of the human body, and in 
the nature and properties of those remedies 
which he provides for these diseases. The 
metaphysician and the moralist are the phy- 
sicians of the mind ; they dissect its parts, 
arrange its faculties and its powers, point out 
its diseases, and prescribe the remedies for 
these diseases. The astronomer bounds from 
the surface of this little earth to the remotest 
planet, measures its distance and its magni- 
tude, calculates its orbit and its velocity. 
He chases the comet in its retrograde flight, 
till it disappears and leaves him gazing on 



48 

empty space. He turns his view to the 
faintest star which can be made to twinkle 
on his eye through the best optical instru- 
ment. Aided by analogy, he surrounds each 
of these luminous points with a system of re- 
volving planets, like that to which he belongs. 
Each of these behold, with admiration and 
delight, the wisdom of God — the astronomer, 
on a grander scale, but not in more diversi- 
fied forms, nor in clearer displays, than the 
anatomist. The Christian, without neglectinsj 
these studies, takes his stand at the cross of 
a Divine Saviour; there, with devout adora- 
tion and the purest delight, he beholds the 
brightest displays of divine wisdom that ever 
were made to intelligent beings. 

The object proposed is not only great and 
good, but the greatest and the best — the glory 
of God, the manifestation of his own infinite 
excellence. This purpose is answered, in 
part, by the work of creation ; but in a much 
higher degree, by the work of redemption. 
The power, wisdom, and goodness of God, 
are exhibited in creation ; in addition to these, 
the mercy, compassion and forbearance of 
God are displayed in the salvation of sinners. 
None but intelligent creatures, or moral 
agents, can be guilty, for they alone can 
transgress a moral law ; and none but the 
guilty can be objects of mercy, compassion, 



49 

and forbearance. Matter, therefore, in its 
sublimest order and arrangement, in its most 
complex organisation, never could be the 
channel of communication for these divine 
perfections. In the cross of Christ alone 
they are displayed, and surround the charac- 
ter of Deity with its mildest majesty and most 
attractive glory. What will be the character 
of the new heavens and the new earth, men- 
tioned in scripture, we cannot tell ; but the 
heavens and the earth which we now behold 
are doomed to change, and to pass away. 
But every sinner, redeemed by the blood of 
Christ, shall remain an everlasting monument 
of the wisdom as well as the mercy of God. 
Wisdom is perceived not only in the object 
which it proposes, but also in the appoint- 
ment and arrangement of means adapted to 
the accompHshment of this object. Here we 
are lost in pious astonishment at the displays 
of intinite wisdom in these arrangements. 
There are numerous and diversified series of 
means, involving each other, connected with 
each other, and subordinate to each other. 
The first series is in subordination to the 
great and ultimate object. With regard to 
the second series, the first is a primary object, 
for the accomplishment of which the second 
is wisely adapted. The second, while it ope- 
rates in subordination to the first, is, with 
5 



50 

regard to the third, a primary object, for the 
promotion of which the arrangements of the 
third are made. The third series again is a 
primary object with regard to the fourth, and 
the fourth to the fifth, and so on through the 
whole gradation. The fifth, by promoting 
the fourth, promotes the third, and thus also 
the second, and the first, and ultimately the 
great pre-eminent purpose. Take away the 
fifth, and the fourth will not answer the in- 
tended purpose ; for want of the fourth, the 
third will be deprived of its energy ; the 
second, of course, will be affected for want 
of the third ; and the first again for want of 
the second ; and thus the great object will be 
prevented by the failurejof any part of those 
means on the operation of which it depends 
for its accomplishment. The wisdom of 
God, however, has effectually guarded against 
the possibility of any such failure. Every 
series, and every part of that series, operates 
in perfect order and at the proper time. 
Nothing is premature ; nothing is tardy ; no- 
thing is excessive ; nothing is deficient. Thus 
a great system is formed, embracing a vast 
concatenation of causes and eflfects, all con- 
verging to one point, all promoting one grand 
object. 

The death of Jesus Christ was necessary 
as far as we can judge, as the means of dis- 



51 

playing the divine glory in the salvation of 
sinners. This harmonised the justice and 
mercy of God ; and thus furnishes a very 
striking exhibition of the wisdom of Deity. 
Before their union was demonstrated by this 
event, they might have been supposed irre- 
concilable. Mercy can only be exercised in 
the pardon of sin ; but sin deserves punish- 
ment ; and justice requires the infliction of 
deserved punishment. The sinner cannot 
be pardoned, if he suffers the demerit of his 
crimes ; for pardon is deliverance from such 
punishment. In the cross these apparently 
discordant attributes unite in perfect har- 
mony ; and by their union increase the 
glory of each other : God is just as well as 
merciful, in the pardon of sin. 

While the death of Christ is the means of 
manifesting the divine glory, it is itself a great 
object, to which a vast variety of arrange- 
ments are subordinate. Had man, by his 
wisdom, been required to fix on the proper 
time for this event, he would probably have 
erected the cross immediately after the fall. 
Let the remedy, he would probably have 
said, be provided and be known, as soon as 
the disease is felt. Let the knowledge of the 
atonement descend and spread with the de- 
scending and spreading contagion of sin. 
The wisdom of God, however, determined 



52 

otherwise. For many ages, but few and 
faint intimations of his merciful designs were 
given ; and the world was left to make a 
grand experiment on its own principles — an 
experiment which we need not wish to see 
repeated. The wickedness of men became 
so great, that even the patience of God could 
tolerate them no longer on the earth : they 
were swept off by the deluge. That period 
at which the crucifixion of the Saviour was 
to take place, is called, in Scripture, the ful- 
ness of time ; that is, when the world was 
prepared for it. Either sooner or later, 
there is reason to believe, would not so well 
have answered the purpose in view. Ex- 
pectation was to be excited. With this 
view, Abraham w^as called ; the Jews were 
separated ; the ceremonial law was given, 
every rite and offering of which had a refer- 
ence, more or less direct to Christ: these 
were the shadows, he was the substance. 
Thus expectation of his advent was excited 
and confirmed. Holy prophets were to pre- 
dict the manner of his birth, his life, and his 
death, and the glorious consequences which 
should follow. This expectation is not only 
confirmed, but kindles into desire and hope. 
The nations are to be overturned, to prepare 
the way of the Lord. Then, and not till 
then, the wisdom of God determined that 



the Saviour should die ; when it would make 
the best impression on the world, produce 
the most glorious effects through time and 
ihrough eternity. 

Christ having died, this fact is to be made 
known to tlie world — another grand object 
for the accomplishment of which a variety 
of circumstances offer their concurrent ope- 
ration. The fulness of time, no doubt, had 
a reference to this event, which was to com- 
mence immediately after the death of the 
Saviour. During many preceding ages, a 
succession of events had been taking place, 
to bring the world into that state most fa- 
vourable to the promulgation of the gospel. 
Kingdoms had risen and fallen in succession, 
like waves of the ocean, till at this time the 
Roman empire embraced in its limits what 
was then called the whole world. The Old 
Testament had long been translated into the 
Greek language ; the polite and learned lan- 
guage of that day. The Jews, carrying the 
Scripture with them, were dispersed in every 
province, and in almost every city and village 
of the whole empire. They built their syna- 
gogues, or had their appointed places where 
prayer was wont to be made. Every one 
must see wliat facilities this state of things 
furnished to the first heralds of the cross. 
Every where they found a synagogue, or a 
5^ 



54 

place of prayer to which they resorted; they 
found Jews, their own countrymen, to whom 
they made the first proclamations of mercy ; 
they found the oracles of God which they 
read and expounded, and out of which they 
reasoned, proving that Jesus was the Mes- 
siah, foretold and expected by the old pro- 
phets. This opened their way to the Gen- 
tiles, to whom they offered salvation. If any 
of these circumstances had been wanting, 
great, if not insuperable difficulties would 
have been met in preaching the gospel. 
The wisdom, then, of this whole arrange- 
ment is obvious and striking, and cannot 
fail to impress all attentive observers. 

The first preachers of the gospel were to 
be selected and prepared for the duties of 
their office. Much more depends on the 
wisdom of this choice, than will meet the 
view of superficial observers. The office is 
the most important that can be filled by man. 
If ever the gospel required faithful men, who 
were able to teach others, it required them 
now. For several years after the death of 
Christ, during which the gospel was exten- 
sively made known, there was no written 
account of the life and doctrines of the Sa- 
viour ; no record of undoubted authority, to 
which, as to an infallible judge, doubtful 
cases in doctrine and practice could be re- 



55 

ferred for decision. No part of the New 
Testament was then written. The want of 
such a record would make a very great dif- 
ference. If an error in doctrine is now ad- 
vanced, we have our Bible at hand ; we can 
turn to the passage which refutes that error. 
If any thing criminal in practice appears, we 
can point out the precept which condemns 
that practice. How different would be the 
case, if all such decisions depended on the 
mere opinion and authority of men ! And 
when the first narrative was written, for 
want of the art of printing, its circulation 
must have been very limited, compared with 
what it might have been by the aid of this 
art. The truth and genuineness of the gos- 
pel depended on the knowledge and fidelity 
of its first preachers. During these years 
the apostles and first preachers were to the 
churches and to all men, what the New 
Testament is to us — the supreme authority 
in doctrine and practice. The gospel was 
to make its first impression on the world ; 
and it was highly important that this should 
be a just impression. This work required 
men of sound minds, of accurate and exten- 
sive knowledge in all things relating to their 
oflice, and especially of deep and ardent 
piety. Such were the men selected by the 
wisdom of God for this important purpose. 



5G 

Of this fact, their preaching and their writ- 
ings, which have come to our knowledge, 
furnish the most ample testimony. True, in 
the current version of the Acts, two of them, 
Peter and John, are represented as ignorant 
and unlearned men : and the opinion of some 
is, that this ignorance is similar to that, 
which, among ourselves, by its blunders and 
mistakes, so frequently disgraces the church 
and grieves the pious and judicious. Such 
an opinion, however, is a libel on their 
character, and a shameful impeachment of 
the wisdom which selected them. The pas- 
sage, in the original, means that they were 
nol chosen from the nobility, or the high sta- 
tions in life ; and that they had not received 
their education in the public seminaries of 
polite literature. They were at first selected 
from the whole number of disciples, and 
w^ere carefully instructed for several years, 
by one " who taught as never man taught." 
Thus qualified, they did not need the wisdom 
of this world ; nor did the gospel require it. 
The gospel is wretchedly perverted when it 
is made the channel of communication for 
the learning and the wisdom of men ; its 
glory belongs to God, and not to man. Paul 
was a chosen vessel for this important pur- 
pose. For a time he might run mad with 
the spirit of persecution ; might breathe out 



57 

slaughter and death against the disciples : 
yet from his birth, in the design of heaven, 
he was selected and separated unto the gos- 
pel. While sitting at the feet of Gamaliel, 
he was acquiring that knowledge which ren- 
dered him an able minister of the New Tes- 
tament. The wisdom of God endowed them, 
indeed, with miraculous powers, to meet the 
exigencies of that time. But miracles are 
never introduced to accomplish those pur- 
poses which can be answered in the ordi- 
nary way. The wisdom of God is mani- 
fested in selecting for the first preachers of 
the gospel, men of sound minds, capable of 
clear perceptions and correct decisions ; 
men of accurate and extensive knowledge 
in all things pertaining to their office, who 
would not disgrace themselves and injure 
the cause they had espoused by the shame- 
less blunders of ignorance ; men of deep and 
fervent piety, who would preach, and live, 
and suffer, and die, for the glory of their 
Divine Master. 

The death of Christ, and the preaching of 
the gospel could not be in vain. He shall 
see of the travail of his soul ^ the word of God 
shall not return to him void^ it shall accom- 
plish his pleasure. Millions of immortal 
souls shall be washed in the blood of the 
cross ; changed and purified by that gospel, 



58 

proclaimed by the apostles and their succes- 
sors. The salvation of each individual of all 
these countless millions, was a distinct and 
important object in the eternal purpose of 
God. In the great plan for promoting the 
divine glory is included a series of means, 
appointed and arranged by unerring wisdom, 
adapted to the character and circumstances 
of each individual. All, indeed, are saved 
by grace ; but none are saved by miracle, or 
without the use of means. These means 
were not appointed and arranged by chance 
or by accident, neither of which, in the views 
and plans of God, have either meaning or 
existence: but with special design, to answer 
a particular purpose. Each series is a com- 
plete system in itself, embracing a number 
of parts, operating in perfect order and sub- 
ordination to each other, all promoting the 
great object, the salvation of the soul. One 
part of these means, is to operate after an- 
other has produced its effect. One will have 
no good effect, until the mind has been first 
prepared by another. As the seasons of 
spring, summer, and autumn, by their united 
and successive influence, bring to maturity 
the fruits of the earth, so the different parts 
in each series of means, operate in building 
up the soul in its most holy faith. In its 
great outline, each series resembles all the 



59 

others : but each one, in its details, is diver- 
sified by more than ten thousand pecuharities. 
Here we think, is a grand display of the wis- 
dom — //le MAxiroLD wisdom of God, 

But lest we should be lost in so wide, 
though delightful a field, or wander through 
it with less advantasje, let us take one single 
individual, and fix our attention on his case. 
This man is to be a vessel of mercy, is to be 
prepared to show forth the riches of divine 
glory. Let his birth be where it may ; let 
his wanderings through the world be what 
they may; sooner or later, he must become 
acquainted with the gospel ; for he cannot 
be saved without faith in Jesus Christ. He 
may fly from the command of God, like 
Jonah ; but he will be overtaken and sub- 
dued. He may fight and persecute like 
Paul; but he will bless God for redeeming 
grace and sovereign mercy. He may too, 
like Paul, blaspheme; but he will embrace 
and cherish the faith which once he des- 
troyed. He is surrounded by a series of 
means, arranged and set in operation before 
he was born, from which he cannot escape, 
by which, through divine agency, he is to 
become a new creature. Such is the case 
with every individual who shall, through the 
blood of the cross, reach the joys of heaven. 

One object to be accomplished, in the 



60 

salvation of a sinner is, to make him acquaint- 
ed with the gospel, another is, by that 
gospel, to change his heart. In order that 
we may perceive the wisdom of God in 
adapting the means, and rendering them 
effectual to this purpose, we must consider 
the character on which the change is to be 
produced. The man who is to be the sub- 
ject of this great work, is an intelligent 
creature ; capable of perception, of thought, 
of reasoning and of judgment ; of course, 
though not an independent, yet he is a free 
agent. The operations of his mind are free, 
and subject to no compulsion, except through 
the medium of perception. Perception is 
produced by impressions from external 
objects on the bodily senses, by statements 
made to the mind, and by its own exercise. 
These perceptions are the materials of 
thought ; reasoning is the comparison of these 
thoughts with each other, and with a given 
standard ; judgment, or decision, is the result 
of that comparison. The mind also possesses 
what are called moral powers. Its percep- 
tions, thoughts, reasonings and decisions, 
produce, in a greater or less degree, excite- 
ments of various kinds, or what are generally 
called affections or passions. These again 
have an important influence on the exercise 
of the intellectual faculties. They spread 



1 



61 

themselves, like an atmosphere, before the 
vision of the mind. They obscure or warp 
all its perceptions ; of course affect, in a 
correspondent degree, all operations of the 
mind, depending on perception. Hence the 
most erroneous conclusions and incorrect 
decisions are made. Yet erroneous and in- 
correct as they are, they will excite their 
correspondent atfections. These affections 
are the great motives of action ; they direct 
the conduct. The man's life is the index to 
his affections, as his affections are to his 
thoughts and perceptions. In order to 
change his life, you must change his heart, 
or his affections ; this can only be done by 
changing his thoughts and his conclusions ; 
this again can be effected in no other way 
than by furnishing him with new materials 
of thought, by fixing attention, which is a 
strong effort of thought, on objects, in their 
nature calculated to produce this change. 
These materials of thought can be introduced 
in no other way than through the medium 
of perception ; for that which does not enter 
the mind in this way can neither employ 
the thoughts, nor modify the affections. 

This man is also a moral agent. He is 

capable of perceiving the nature and demands 

of a law, intended to regulate all his conduct, 

all his affections, and all his thoughts, and 

6 



62 

therefore called a moral law. God, his ma- 
ker, has given him such a law, demanding, 
through his whole life, perfect conformity to 
its precepts in all his actions, affections, and 
thoughts. To such obedience the Great 
Law-giver has promised the reward of his 
approbation, and threatens every transgres- 
sion with his heavy displeasure. The trans- 
gression of this law is sin, and the liability to 
suffer its penalty is guilt. Now, the man be- 
fore us is a sinner, and is guilty. He, as all 
men are, is depraved. This depravity we 
will not at present attempt to define. Its 
nature and reality are illustrated and proved 
by numerous and melancholy facts, which 
meet the observation of all, and can be de- 
nied by none. All men have sinned ; there 
is none righteous, no, not one. This man 
has transgressed this law ; he does transgress 
it, not occasionally, but habitually ; not acci- 
dentally, but designedly. The demands of 
this law are reasonable, its tendency is good ; 
but there is not this belief in him : he be- 
lieves these demands to be unreasonable, and 
this tendency to be inconsistent with his in- 
terest. He calculates on more happiness 
from transgression than from obedience. The 
law condemns him as a sinner, and threatens 
him with its penalty ; he, therefore, hates this 
law with positive hatred. The character of 



63 

God, in part, is made known through the 
law ; he, therefore, hates that character, and 
the Being to whom it belongs. He loves 
sin, and neither intends nor desires to change 
his heart or his life. Hence it becomes his 
interest, as he conceives, to forget this law ; 
and God is not in all his thoughts ; he is with- 
out God in the world. For all his transgres- 
sions and hatred, there is not the shadow of 
excuse; nothing which he can plead in miti- 
gation of his guilt. He is, therefore, in a 
state of just and fearful condemnation. Nor 
is it, by any efforts of his own, possible for 
him to escape, though he may forget this 
condemnation. The gospel offers him a way 
of escape, and invites him to accept of its 
provisions. But he rejects the offer, because 
he hates the provisions. He would accept 
of pardon, that is, exemption from punish- 
ment, if it was not connected with repent- 
ance. But this pardon is inseparably con- 
nected with repentance and reformation of 
heart and life. This pardon, therefore, he 
does not desire; all he desires is, permission 
to sin, to follow the inclination of his own 
heart with impunity. He loves those sins 
which repentance requires him to forsake ; 
he has an utter aversion to the spirit which 
the gospel requires him to cherish, and to 
those duties, in the discharge of which he is 



64 

to spend his future life. His deliberate and 
fixed intention is never to forsake these sins, 
never to cherish this spirit, never to discharge 
these duties. He nnay, as thousands have 
done, and as thousands are now doing, de- 
ceive himself with the supposition, that he 
intends, at some future period, to repent; 
but, in the nature of things, it is impossible. 
Such an intention cannot co-exist in the mind 
with a deliberate intention to live, at present, 
in sin. Light and darkness, Christ and Belial, 
might as soon dwell in harmony together, as 
two such intentions. To suppose it possible 
for a man to intend to repent in future, when 
at present he pursues and enjoys the plea- 
sures of sin, is a dangerous delusion. 

Such is the character that is to be changed. 
This life is to be reformed ; this spirit is to 
be renewed ; these affections are to be placed 
on heavenly and spiritual objects ; these 
thoughts are to flow in a new channel ; these 
perceptions are to be corrected. In the ac- 
complishment of this work, God manifests 
himself mighty in strength and in ruisdom. 
Let us consider the means by which it is ef- 
fected, and the manner in which they are 
employed. 

The work is performed by the agency of 
the Holy Spirit; not in a miraculous way, 
but by the use of means, and chiefly by the 



65 

instrumentality of truth. These means are, 
in themselves, wisely and powerfully calcu- 
lated to have this etfect. The gospel is the 
power of God unto salvation to every one who 
believeth, the word of God is quick and power- 
ful. Indeed, the change is sometimes as- 
cribed to the word : Of his own will begat 
he us with the word of truth ^ being born 
agaiii — of the word of God — the ingrafted 
word, zvhich is able to save your souls. Though 
it is effected by the use of means, it is as 
really the work of the spirit, as if no means 
were employed. It is frequently ascribed to 
the spirit without any reference to the means. 
Such is the ignorance of the mind, and the 
opposition of the heart, that these means 
would be effectually resisted, were they not 
accompanied by divine energy. 

The sinner is commanded to believe and 
obey the gospel ; but he feels an utter aver- 
sion to it, and disobeys the command. The 
spirit does not, by compulsion, bring the 
mind instantly to submission; but in a way 
perfectly consistent with its free agency, 
brings it, step after step, to choose and de- 
light in this submission. He will never change 
his life till his affections are changed. For 
it is not to be expected that he will volunta- 
rily forsake those practices which all his af- 
fections prompt him to pursue. This would 
6* 



66 

be inconsistent with the (ree agency of an 
intelligent nnind. These affections are gene- 
rated by his conclusions and his thoughts, 
and cannot be changed without first chang- 
ing his thoughts ; for in vain do you expect a 
change in the effect, while the cause of that 
effect is left, with undiminished vigour, in full 
operation. There is but one way, consist- 
ently with free agency, to change the thoughts; 
that is, by furnishing the mind with new ma- 
terials of thought ; with objects for their em- 
ployment of the same nature with the affec- 
tions which are to be excited. Control the 
thoughts, and you control the affections ; 
control the affections, and you regulate the 
life. Suppose this order to be reversed, and 
if the same effect is produced, it must be by 
mere compulsion, by violating the free agen- 
cy of man. But God, who has endowed him 
with this agency, will not destroy his own 
gift. This is the order which the wisdom of 
the spirit observes in reforming the man ; and 
there is an admirable adaptation to this order 
in the means by which the work is accom- 
plished. This shows the great importance 
and necessity of truth, which, introduced into 
the mind, furnishes materials for the employ- 
nnent of its thoughts. The spirit commences 
the work by fixing the attention on some 
truth relating to the nature of sin. This 



67 

thoughtfulness is like leaven ; its effects are 
immediately felt; it excites a correspondent 
degree of fear ; this fear is the antagonist of 
the love of sin, and weakens the power of 
that love, and thus clears a little the vision 
of the mind, and opens the way for the en- 
trance of other truths relating to the same 
subject. By the additional light of these 
truths, the thoughts are still more engaged, 
and the mind has clearer perceptions of the 
gui!t and danger of sin ; a greater degree of 
fear is excited; and, in the same proportion, 
the love of sin loses its power. One truth 
opens the way for another ; and the moie in- 
tensely the attention dwells on the subject, 
the more deeply interesting does it become. 
The sinner is now perplexed and alarmed 
with the view of his guilt and danger. This 
prompts to further enquiries, and the result 
of these enquiries increases his alarm. His 
views and feelings with regard to sin are 
changed. Instead of the fond, though delu- 
sive dreams and hopes of impunity, the dan- 
ger of sin now fills his mind and occupies his 
thoughts ; instead of the love, the fear of sin 
and its consequences now prevail ; instead 
of a desire for the pleasures of sin, he now 
feels anxious and distressed on account of it. 
He is not, in the scriptural sense, a new 
man, yet he is another from what he former- 



68 

ly was. This is conviction for sin ; that is, 
the perception and belief of the truth respect- 

Universal experience, if we are not nnis- 
taken, will testify that this is the way in which 
the work of grace commences : with serious 
thoughtfulness. It is a fact too, that the more 
we attend to any subject, the better we un- 
derstand it. The truth which engaged the 
first thought, may have been presented to the 
mind before, but did not, in the same degree, 
arrest the attention : this then, is the work of 
the Spirit, whose design it was, in this way, 
to produce that deep thoughtfulness, and 
that sense of danger, which we now perceive. 
When the man bestowed the first thought on 
the subject, he had no intention or desire of 
proceeding so far : this, however, was the 
intention of the Spirit. Had he been com- 
manded, before this seriousness commenced, 
to give up the world and cease thinking about 
it, he would have disobeyed ; but now the 
world has slipped out of his mind and is for- 
gotten, in proportion as his thoughts are 
otherwise employed. In vain would the 
command have been given, in his former 
days — think of the Saviour ; enquire after 
the plan of salvation ; seek a remedy for sin: 
but now the enquiry is naturally and earnest- 
ly made, 20/10!^ mM5^/c?o to be saved 'I Hav- 



69 

ing clearer discoveries of the deceitfulness 
and v\ickedness of his own heart ; thoroughly 
convinced that he deserves condemnation, 
that he is utterly unable to deliver himself; 
he believes and feels that if he is saved, it 
must be by the exercise of mercy ; mercy 
too, which he does not deserve, and which 
he cannot demand ; for God is not bound to 
save him. No man can be reconciled to the 
everlasting displeasure of God, who has any 
correct ideas of that displeasure. He now 
sees, however, that he cannot escape, except 
it is by an act of sovereign grace. He is 
now completely subdued. His thoughts arie 
turned to this mercy, which promises the 
only safety ; for this mercy, with humble, 
submissive earnestness he prays. The Holy 
Spirit, who directs this progress, fixes his at- 
tention on the promises and invitations of the 
gospel, which are now most deeply interest- 
ing to him, and through which the Saviour 
and the mercy of God are offered. He is now 
willing to be saved in any way which God 
is pleased to appoint. While meditating on 
these subjects, he is enabled to have a spirit- 
ual discernment of the promises and invita- 
tions of the gospel ; he sees the suitableness 
of Jesus Christ as a Saviour, to his sinful and 
helpless condition ; he feels a movement of 
his whole soul towards this Saviour ; clearer 



70 

views of the plan of salvation increase this 
movement; he believes, he adores, he loves, 
he hopes, he rejoices, he weeps, he gives him- 
self up without reserve to God and to his Re- 
deemer. He is now, in the scriptural sense, a 
new man. His thoughts have been employed 
about the truth of the Bible ; his atfections 
are changed with his thoughts ; and his life 
will change with his affections. The purity 
of God and of his law, to which he felt such 
a deep-rooted enmity, is now most lovely in 
his view ; the service of God, to which he 
felt so much aversion, is now his delight. 
The Saviour, of whom he thought so seldom 
before, and whom he so lightly esteemed, 
now fills his mind, and is precious to his 
heart; the Bible, formerly, in his estimation 
without interest and much neglected, or at 
best, nothing more than a dead letter, is now 
life, and spirit, and power, and employs his 
meditations day and night ; the world, for- 
merly so enchanting in his eye, which he 
loved so dearly and pursued so eagerly, is 
now stript of its delusive charms, sinks to its 
proper place in his regard, and commands 
him no more. In heaven he lays up his trea- 
sure, and views it as the blessed and glorious 
state where he will spend his eternal exist- 
ence. 

Behold the wisdom manifested in this 



71 

change ! It displays design, as clearly as 
design can be displayed ; not of the man, 
but of the spirit who commenced and ac- 
complished the work ; a design which un- 
folds itself more and more completely, at 
each progressive stage of the process. There 
is a decisive control exercised over his 
thoughts and affections, and yet he is con- 
scious of no control. Every step is volun- 
tarily taken, with as much freedom as it 
could have been, if no such control had been 
employed. To the first truth which occupied 
his thoughts, he felt no very decided opposi- 
tion ; because he was not aware of the con- 
sequence, did not perceive nor suspect its 
connection with the result. Had he been 
assured that this truth was connected with 
another, and this again with another, forming 
a complete system of means intended to 
bring him to believe and obey the gospel, 
his opposition would have been roused, and 
would have resisted the entrance of that truth 
into his mind. The first truth was, however, 
admitted, without awakening any hostile sus- 
picion, to employ his thoughts ; this opened 
the way for the second, v/ith which it was 
connected ; this, for the third : and this, for 
the fourth, and so on ; until he dwells with 
inquisitive earnestness and delight on the 
promises which encourage the guilty and 



72 

helpless sinner to hope for pardon. One 
part of the means is to operate on the mind 
in that state in which another leaves it: and 
this again leaves it in a state of preparation 
for another. There is a connection, an order 
and subserviency in the means, admirably 
adapted to the manner in vi^hich the mind is 
to be influenced and changed. Truth flows 
into his mind in answer to his own desires 
and enquiries ; and by this truth the spirit 
unfolds his designs, and carries on his work. 
The man now, from choice, hates and for- 
sakes the very sins which he once loved and 
pursued ; now delights in those devotional 
exercises of the heart, and in those religious 
duties which he formerly hated and neglect- 
ed. In the day of divine power, he is a 
willing subject of grace. All this is true of 
every Christian: for each one of them there 
is a system of means, thus wisely arranged, 
and thus eflfectually applied. 

Now, if it be a fact, that exhibitions of 
wisdom do improve the understanding which 
contemplates and labours to comprehend 
them, then every Christian has such an op- 
portunity of improving in considering the 
means by which his own heart was changed, 
and the manner in which that change was 
effected. The work may not, in every one, 
have progressed with a regularity which, in 



73 

all its stages, and all its minute details, will 
accord with the above statement ; but will, 
we conceive, be substantially the same. 
Nor is it a subject on which he can ever 
feel indifferent : it will always be interesting 
to him. Often will he review the whole 
process, from the commencement to the 
present hour, for it is a work which will 
continue through life. He can dwell with 
thoughtful inspection on each step sepa- 
rately, and in connection with every other. 
His mind may not be enlightened by science, 
but he will Ijave, in his own heart, the means 
of improving his understanding, by atten- 
tively and frequently beholding a display of 
divine wisdom which the material universe 
cannot surpass. 



74 



SECTIOiN III. 

Exhibitions of greatness improve the understanding. 

Experience teaches us that the contem- 
plation 0^ greatjiess sir engiheus aind improves 
the understanding. The mind is conscious 
of an effort to grasp the magnitude, the 
vastness of the object, or the scene which it 
views. A pleasing expansion is the conse- 
quence of these efforts. This is the true 
feeling of the sublime. The mind seems to 
be endowed with some degree of that great- 
ness which it beholds. Now, in this respect 
the Christian system has very far the advan- 
tage over the whole universe of matter. In 
considering the material creation, there is a 
limit beyond which the mind cannot, with 
any profit, carry its investigations ; such ef- 
forts are repaid with neither pleasure nor 
improvement to the mind that makes them. 
There is no more known, at this day, res- 
pecting the principle of attraction, than was 
known at the end of Newton's life. The 
distance, the diameter, and the different pe- 
riods of the planets, are already ascertained : 



75 

enquiry, therefore, on these subjects has 
ceased. And subjects on which nothing 
more can be known, yield Httle or no im- 
provement. For it is not so much the pos- 
session, as the acquisition of ideas that im- 
proves the mind. Memory alone is exer- 
cised in retaining our ideas ; but the under- 
standing is exercised, and of course im- 
proved in their acquisition. Besides, the 
grandest scenes of nature cease to be inte- 
resting, as soon as they become familiar to 
the mind. Those who live on the summit 
of a mountain, derive not one pleasing emo- 
tion from beholding that prospect which fills 
the mind of a stranger with inexpressible 
delight, and gives it a conscious elevation. 
Those who view the restless ocean every 
day, cease to admire its boundless extent ; 
but on the man who views it for the first 
time, it has a very diflferent eflfect. From 
our infancy we are accustomed to see the 
sun, shining in all his majesty, rising and set- 
ting regularly every day ; we see the moon 
and stars pursuing their nightly procession ; 
but there is no novelty in the scene ; their 
appearance one day and one night are so 
nearly the same with every other day and 
night, that no attention is excited. Could 
we rise, with our present faculties of mind 
and body, from the centre of the earth, Ian- 



76 

guage could not express the sublime feelings 
which the first view of the lofty concave, 
either by ni^ht or by day, would not fail to 
produce. The case is widely different with 
moral greatness : here, there is no limit to 
check further enquiries and further progress. 
Nor is it possible to exhaust subjects of this 
nature so completely, that nothing new will 
remain to invite and repay progressive in- 
vestigation. The discoveries in natural sci- 
ence may be communicated to others, who 
know neither the toil nor the pleasure of 
that enquiry which led to them; but our pro- 
gress in the knowledge of God, through the 
cross, must be the result of our own efforts, 
and our own experience. One may assist 
in directing the enquiries of another, but 
cannot relieve him from the necessity of 
making these enquiries; they must be made 
by each individual for himself. Language 
cannot impart to another the views and 
feelings which reward the diligent student of 
moral greatness. One cannot commence his 
progress where that of another has ended ; 
each one commences from the same point. 

The Apostle Paul prays that the Ephe- 
sians might know the love of Christ ^ and yet, 
in the very next w^ords declares that this love 
passeth knowledge. Here is neither paradox 
nor inconsistency. This love is infinite ; and 



77 

therefore, never can be perfectly known by 
any creature. Its height, no hmited mind 
can reach ; its depth, none can fathom ; its 
length and its breadth, none can compre- 
hend. Yet the Christian who devoutly 
meditates on this subject will be rewarded, 
every day and every year, with such pro- 
ficiency as will increase his strength, and his 
desire, to persevere the next day, and the 
next year, in the contemplation of redeem- 
ing love. Not an effort is made, not a day 
is spent, in vain. The progress he makes 
does not damp his ardour, and diminish his 
joy, by the conviction that the less remains 
to be done. The farther he advances, the 
wider does the range of future progress ex- 
pand on his view. The higher he rises, the 
more sublime does the height appear which 
he has yet to reach. Nor is it possible for 
any length of time to render the subject so 
familiar to his mind, that it will cease to ar- 
rest his attention, and invite him to further 
pursuit. Every step he advances, every de- 
gree he rises, presents him with increasing 
wonders, more inviting and more delightful, 
than all he has yet known. All behind him, 
and all below him is forgotten, in view of 
what is still before him and above him. No 
attainment, no progress satisfies him, while 
so much remains unattained. The brightest 
7* 



78 

visions of faith and hope can present to his 
mind nothing more enrapturing, than to 
spend his eternal existence in knowing more 
and more of the love of Christ. 

There is a greatness in the mercy of God, 
which no finite understanding can ever com- 
prehend ; which yet rewards the mind en- 
gaged in the contemplation of it, with the 
purest delight and the most encouraging suc- 
cess. For as the heaven is high above the 
earthy so great is his mercy toward them that 
fear him. Let us, for a moment, attend to 
this comparison. Nothing in the material 
universe conveys more forcibly to the mind 
the idea and the impression of greatness, 
than the heaven. Its lofty height, its vast 
extent, are calculated to produce impres- 
sions truly sublime. A single glance will 
produce the conviction that no human effort 
can ever reach it. With all the aid which 
art can afford, the greatest elevation to which 
man can ascend from this earth, does not ap- 
pear to diminish, in the smallest degree, the 
height of heaven. Although we cannot say, 
with strict propriety, that its height appears 
to be infinite ; yet, certainly, it is very great. 
This height, then, above the earth, is the 
scale by which we should measure the great- 
ness of redeeming mercy. 

In language by no means of dubious im- 
port, we sometimes hear threatening hints, 



79 

that the progress of modern science will, 
one day, shake the foundation and overthrow 
the whole system of Christianity ; that man 
will become too wise to believe that there is 
any such thing as sin, in this poor miserable 
world ; of course, that there is no need of 
the mercy of God, or of a Saviour. We 
rejoice, most cordially, in the progress of 
science ; and cannot, for a moment, be made 
to fear such effects from that progress. The 
Bible was not intended to teach us the sci- 
ence of nature ; its object is infinitely more 
important. We cannot believe, however, 
that the greatest proficient in this science 
will find a single fact, or make a single dis- 
covery at variance with the truth of this 
Holy Book. If Christianity needed such 
aid, the light of true philosophy would fur- 
nish it, in abundance. Such, at least, is the 
fact respecting the passage now under con- 
sideration. Modern astronomers assure us 
that the canopy over our heads is not real 
substance, coloured with soft and cheerful 
blue, along the surface of which, the sun, 
the moon and the stars, pursue their daily 
and nightly courses ; that if we should take 
our flight to the remotest star which our eye 
can perceive, and pursue our flight in the 
same direction as far beyond that star as it is 
from the earth ; and repeat this flight ten 



80 

thousand times, till the whole system to 
which we belong should vanish out of sight, 
till numerous other systems, like our own, 
should alternately swell on our view, and 
then disappear ; the same appearance of the 
sky would accompany us as we advanced, 
and surround us when we stopped \ that no 
real substance would ever check our flight; 
that the impression made on our senses is 
produced by infinite space. This, then, is 
the measure of divine mercy : it is not only 
very great ; it is literally boundless, it is infi- 
nite mercy. 

The greatness of this adorable perfection 
may be perceived by considering the amount 
of guilt which it washes away, the multitude 
of sins which it covers. This is a subject 
too, which very often and very deeply en- 
gages the attention of every Christian. He 
must be often employed in meditating on the 
number of his transgressions, and on the 
circumstances w^hich aggravate his guilt ; 
these he confesses before God ; on account 
of these he is humbled ; for these he repents, 
and implores forgiveness. Let him be igno- 
rant of what else he may, if a Christian, he 
cannot be ignorant of his own sinfulness. 
Nor can he cherish the hope of pardon 
without perceiving the greatness of that 
mercy on which his hopes are founded. 



81 

Take one day in the life of a man unre- 
newed by divine grace; calculate, if possible, 
the number of thoughts, desires and inten- 
tions, the words and actions of this one day; 
all of which are sinful ; each one of which 
deserves the displeasure of God ; and under 
what a load of guilt will he not repose him- 
self at night ? And yet he wakes, and pur- 
sues the same course for another day. Mul- 
tiply this number by three hundred and sixty- 
five, and it will give you the number of sins, 
and the amount of guilt for one year. What 
a treasure is this, which he has laid up, not 
of silver and gold, but of wrath ! And yet 
he commences another year with the same 
intention. This guilt is not to be ascer- 
tained, however, by the mere simple ratio of 
multiplication ; but by a compound ratio of 
increase. Every day is more guilty than the 
one which precedes it. Every day the calls 
to repentance are louder and louder ; every 
day his danger is more and more alarming. 
He cannot, therefore, persevere in these cir- 
cumstances without a degree of guilt, in- 
creasing as the motives to repentance be- 
come more impressive and urgent. Besides, 
his thirst for sin is increased with the indul- 
gence of every day ; so is the rapidity with 
which he is carried along the broad road to 
ruin. Like a body falling to the earth, the 



82 

nearer he approaches the pit of perdition, he 
is drawn towards it with an increasing ve- 
locity. Such is one day ; and such is one 
year! Suppose he remains in this state for 
twenty years, every day, and hour, and mo- 
ment of which is spent in sin. Then multi- 
ply the product of one year by twenty, and 
it will give (what our minds cannot possibly 
comprehend) the number of sins with all 
their aggravations, which are freely par- 
doned through the mercy of God, when he 
is united to Christ and adopted into the 
family of heaven. Every sinner who lays 
hold of this hope, is convinced that if God 
was not rich in iiurcy^ his sins could not be 
forgiven. Nor can he ever become indiffer- 
ent to the greatness of this mercy. Every 
thought which he casts back on his past sin- 
fulness, every pulse of spiritual life which 
beats in his heart, every ray of hope which 
cheers and rejoices his soul, forcibly remind 
him of it. There is, in this greatness, an 
interesting and infinite loveliness, which in- 
vites and engages his attention, and fills him 
with a pure and peaceful joy. His earnest 
prayer is, that, with a tongue faltering in 
death, he may recommend this ground of 
hope to those he leaves behind ; that when 
at the call of his Saviour, he is removed 
from this earth, his thoughts and his hopes 



83 

may be firmly fixed on the greatness of di- 
vine mercy. 

it may be thought unnecessary and use- 
less to search for additional evidence of the 
greatness of sovereign mercy, when that al- 
ready presented, in the salvation of one sin- 
ner, places the subject so far above our com- 
prehension. 

The Christian, however, cannot be wea- 
ried with the subject ; he loves to meditate 
on it; to view it in all the grandeur and 
sublimity of its exhibitions ; to feel over- 
whelmed with its incomprehensibilities ; be- 
cause he is the more deeply convinced that 
it is calculated to afford him an eternal 
fulness of joy. This Christian is not the 
only vessel of mercy^ the only monument of 
its greatness. Countless millions will be 
redeemed through this mercy; each one of 
whom will display the riches of its glory. 
If the utmost power of numbers could answer 
the purpose, and if our minds could perform 
the operation of multiplying all these millions 
by the greatness of mercy displayed in the 
salvation of one sinner, the result would not 
exceed the truth, however it might exceed 
our comprehension. But numbers have no 
relation to this subject ; our minds cannot 
perform the operation. It is a subject, known 
and comprehended, by Him alone, to whose 



84 

character this perfection belongs. The 
Christian can feel no regret that the founda- 
tion of his hope is so deep and firm that he 
cannot comprehend it; that the source of his 
joy is as inexhaustible as the infinite mind 
in which it exists. It would grieve him to 
believe that there was a period, however re- 
mote, in his future existence, when the last 
mysteries of this greatness would be com- 
pletely developed to his view ; when nothing 
remained to invite farther enquiries, and pro- 
mise new discoveries; when the whole sub- 
ject would become familiar to his mind. 
With painful anticipations he would look 
forward to such a period, as the termination 
of at least a part of his joy. It will expand 
and elevate the mind of the highest archan- 
gel to behold the great multitude redeemed 
out of every tongue and kindred under 
heaven; a multitude, requiring of this angel, 
perhaps the flight of an age, to take a survey 
of all their crowded millions, presenting to 
his consideration the same general features 
of character, connected, however, with in- 
finite varieties and shades of difference. 
This exhibition of divine mercy may fix 
him more firmly in his allegiance to the great 
Jehovah. Thus the thrones, and dominions, 
and principalities and powers of heaven will 
be reconciled to God, through the cross of 



85 

Christ. Deriving more exalted conceptions 
of the divine character from these exhibi- 
tions, their love will glow with more intense 
ardour, their adoration will be more profound, 
their songs of praise will be louder and 
sweeter. While the universe is filled with 
the splendours of mercy, reflected from the 
saints of the IVJost High, the divine Saviour 
will rejoice over them as the purchase of his 
blood, as the fruit of his agonies on the cross. 
With ineffable complacency, God himself 
will view them as the most precious jew'els, 
in his crown of glory. 

There is a greatness in the forbearance of 
God, which, however it may pass unnoticed 
by a thoughtless world, cannot fail to employ 
the meditations of the Christian. Through 
this forbearance he escapes, from day to day, 
the punishment his crimes deserve. There 
is this peculiarity in the long suffering of 
God ; it is exercised towards every human 
being. If there be a truth, supported by the 
testimony of scripture and of fact, it is this; 
that man, from his very birth, is in a state of 
guilt. In many places the Bible, in plain 
and positive language, declares this truth. 
We feel in ourselves, and we witness in 
others, nameless sufferings, for which no satis- 
factory account can be given, but that we are 
guilty ; and that these sufferings are the conse- 



. 86 

quence of this guilt. It is evident, at the same 
time, that these sufferings are not propor- 
tioned to our guilt ; of course, that they are 
intended to operate as means of reformation. 
Every sin deserves a far greater punishment 
than is ever inflicted in this life. Every 
moment, therefore, that we are permitted to 
remain in a state of rebellion, on this earth, 
displays the greatness of the divine forbear- 
ance. This will be, to the Christian, a cause 
of grateful adoration through his eternal ex- 
istence ; and the sinner who perishes in final 
im.penitence, sinking and suffering in the 
bottomless pit, will remember, with anguish, 
that once the long-suffering of God waited 
with him. 

Although God is the self-existent, eternal 
Jehovah, and we are creatures of yesterday, 
sinful worms of the earth, yet he permits us 
to aid our conceptions of his greatness by 
comparison. Let us then suppose an earthly 
sovereign, distinguished for the mildness and 
equity of his laws, and for the wisdom and 
benevolence with which he labours to guard 
and promote the happiness of his subjects: 
and that a part of these subjects rebel against 
him, traduce his character, disobey his laws, 
and endeavour, by their example and their 
advice, to lead others into the same rebel- 
lion, destroy the government, and fill the 



87 

whale province with discord, anarchy and 
ruin. He has it completely in his power to 
crush them, at any moment; and is well ac- 
quainted with their designs and their efforts. 
From pure benevolence, he labours to soften 
and subdue them by kindness ; and, therefore, 
offers them pardon, invites them to return to 
the protection of his government, and to the 
enjoyment of his approbation — the rich re- 
ward of all faithful subjects. Messenger 
after messenger is sent to offer this pardon, 
to urge them with earnest entreaties to ac- 
cept of it, and warn them of their danger. 
But they reject the offer, make light of the 
warning, and grow bolder in rebellion. 
Again, perhaps at the peril of their lives, the 
messengers return to them, v^'ith more earnest 
entreaties, and more solemn and affectionate 
warnings. But the tenderness and urgency 
WMth which the offers are made and the 
warnings are given, increases their dislike 
into hatred of his character, his government 
and his offers. Again they are visited : and 
their hatred is matured into deep rooted en- 
mity, and defiance begins to print itself on 
their brow. How long would this sovereign 
bear with such treatment from such rebels ? 
How soon would his patience be exhausted, 
his clemency turned into just indignation, 
and his power be exerted in their destruc- 



tion ? How striking, then, how glorious is 
the patience of God, who bears with the 
rebellion, the wickedness, the enmity, the 
insulting blasphemy of man, from day to 
day, from year to year, and from age to age! 
When the deadly, the infernal malignity of 
sin ; when the infinite mercy and majesty of 
God, against whom it was committed, are 
seen in the light of eternity, the greatness of 
the divine forbearance will touch the heart 
of men and angels with sentiments of the 
most profound and joyful adoration. 

Now, it is impossible for anyone to be a 
Christian without being sensible of the ex- 
ceeding greatness of the divine patience 
towards him. Nothing can efface from his 
mind, the remembrance of his former sinful- 
ness and his guilt. The vileness and malignity 
of his sins he will often confess and lament 
before God ; and the divine forbearance 
which waited with him, is so necessarily 
connected with sin, that the remembrance 
and impression of the one will introduce the 
other. To remember his sins, and forget 
the long suffering of God, will be impossible ; 
the greatness of which will be graduated, 
in his view, by the amount of his guilt. 
With the most intense thoughtfulness he will 
often review his past offences, the dangers to 
which he was exposed, the perilous escapes 



89 

he has made, till he finds himself instinctive- 
ly, though imperceptibly shrinking, as if he 
was at the moment exposed to the same 
danger. He will be filled with wonder and 
amazement that he was not stricken dead 
in the midst of his sins ; that the patience of 
God could bear with such a provoking and 
daring offender. These emotions are the 
necessary consequence of his utter inability, 
after all his ctforts, to comprehend the great- 
ness of this forbearance. The vileness of 
sin, and the amount of his guilt, will increase, 
in his view, with every advance he makes 
in the divine life, wnth every degree by 
which he draws nearer to God : and in the 
same proportion will this greatness rise and 
expand above and beyond his comprehension. 
There is, indeed, a greatness, an infinite 
greatness belonging to all the perfections of 
Deity; to his power, his knowledge, his jus- 
tice, &c. as well as to his wisdom, his mercy 
and his forbearance. On this greatness, the 
Christian will often meditate with deep in- 
terest and delight. His thoughts, his ad- 
miration, his love, his adoration of the great- 
ness of these perfections, displayed in the 
works of creation, of providence and re- 
demption, will constitute the high and holy 
intercourse which he is permitted to hold, 
here on earth, with God his Maker; and in 



90 

this way he will see and enjoy God, as his 
portion, when finally released from the dark- 
ness and imperfections of the present state, 
and raised to the clearer light and vision of 
eternity. 

Let us now briefly review the subject. — 
The proposition, for the illustration of which 
these remarks are offered, is: That the Bible 
has a direct and powerful tendency to im- 
prove the understanding of those who study 
its historical narratives, its doctrines and its 
precepts ; but more especially, that it will 
invigorate with increasing strength the under- 
standing of the true Christian, who is deeply 
interested in securing the salvation of his 
soul ; with whom religion is not a mere name, 
an empty profession ; not a mere collection 
of ideas, or a system of external ceremonies, 
neither of which have any practical effect 
on his heart or his life ; but an important 
reality, such a knowledge and belief of the 
truth as calls into vigorous exertion all the 
powers of the understanding and the heart. 
If the proposition and the remarks with which 
it is accompanied are true, the inference will be 
that the mind of the Christian is more im- 
proved than the mind of any other man. 
We do not shrink from this inference, but 
admit it, as fair and necessary, which the 
preceding observations are intended to sup- 



91 

port. These observations derive their per- 
tinency and their force from this principle ; 
that whatever calls into vigorous exercise 
the intellectual faculties, will improve these 
faculties ; and that the improvement will be 
in proportion to the variety, the complex na- 
ture, and the magnitude of the objects about 
which the mind is employed. This, it is uni- 
versally admitted, is the effect resulting from 
literary pursuits. Take two youths, of equal 
capacity and strength of mind ; let one of 
them spend eight or ten years, while his 
mind is unfolding and his intellectual charac- 
ter is forming, in the study of languages and 
science ; let the other spend the same time 
engaged in some of the ordinary occupations 
of life ; at the end of this period, which of 
them would be best qualified for investiga- 
tion, for correct discrimination and decision ? 
which of them would make the greatest pro- 
ficiency in the study of law, of medicine or 
theology? The student undoubtedly would 
have the advantage over the other: not so 
much on account of the ideas, with which 
his mind is stored ; but, chiefly on account 
of the discipline through which his mind 
has passed, and the habits of investigating, of 
reasoning and of judging which he has ac- 
quired. The conclusion, therefore, is just 
and unavoidable, that on the same principle, 



92 

according to the preceding rennarks, the re- 
ligion of the Bible will innprove the nnind 
which cordially embraces it. 

Nor do we fear the result of a comparison 
between the Christian and any other man, 
provided the comparison be a fair one. Let 
both, in all other respects, be equal ; let the 
only difference be, that one is a man of scrip- 
tural piety, of experimental religion, and the 
other is not, and we hesitate not to affirm 
that the comparison will result in favour of 
the Christian, and in support of our conclu- 
sion. We know, indeed, that comparisons 
may be made which would furnish a very 
different result. With a Christian of mode- 
rate talents, doomed to labour from day to 
day, to gain a scanty subsistence, who knows 
but little more than his bible and his God — 
you may compare a naan of the w^orld, or 
even a professed infidel, possessing a native 
vigour of mind, cultivated by study, embel- 
lished with science ; and suppose that the re- 
sult of this comparison will overthrow our 
conclusion. While you make this compari- 
son, however, candour will compel you to 
acknowledge that it is not a fair one. Let 
the Christian possess the same native vigour 
of mind, enjoy the same literary advantages, 
with the man of the world ; or let the irreli- 
gious man possess the same moderate talents, 



93 

be engaged in the same daily toils, be de- 
nied, in the same degree, all opportunities of 
mental improvement, with the Christian; then 
the result will triumphantly support our con- 
clusion. In the former case, the result is 
derived from other circumstances, in which 
the man of the world has greatly the advan- 
tage ; in the latter, in all respects except 
religion, they are equal ; and the result is de- 
rived solely from the difference made by the 
influence of the spirit and the truth of God. 
With sorrow it must be admitted, too, that 
thousands w^ho profess the religion of Jesus 
Christ are nothing but mere pretenders, un- 
influenced by its renovating spirit and its 
power. Such are not, and cannot be, exam- 
ples of the various and happy effects pro- 
duced by the influence of the Bible. No 
cause will produce its effects where it does 
not exist, and where it does not operate. 
The zealous advocate for literary studies 
would complain, and justly too, if the ten- 
dency of these studies was tried by the exam- 
ple of those, who. though they had spent the 
usual time in academies and colleges, were 
known to be nothing but mere pretenders to 
literary acquisitions. He would point you 
to the man who loved the pursuits in which 
he was engaged, whose mind was closely 
and habitually applied to these studies, as the 



94 

example winch would illustrate and support 
his proposition. Go thou, and do liJcezcise, 
with the principles of the Bible; look for 
their effects, where they are in actual and 
vigorous operation. 

it is readily admitted that among the 
Greeks and Romans, who were ignorant of 
divine revelation, there were many whose 
minds were improved with the knowledge of 
arts and sciences, in a degree far above thou- 
sands of Christians. This admission, how- 
ever, does not in the least affect our conclu- 
sion. JMo man will aflirm that their minds 
could not have been improved in a greater 
degree than they were, by the application of 
means calculated to produce this effect. We 
contend that the Bible furnishes these very 
means; that the knowledge and belief of its 
truth would have improved their minds in a 
still greater degree, and have rendered them 
still more illustrious than they are. if Archi- 
medes had been a sincere, an humble, and 
devout Christian, he might have been the 
Newton of the world. If Socrates, Plato, 
Aristotle, and Seneca had felt the transform- 
ing light and power of the Hook of God, 
they might have filled the place now occu- 
pied by Locke, and Reid, and Beattie, and 
Paley. 



PART II. 



SECTION 1. 

Economy and industry, taught in tbe Bible — promote 
human happiness. 

According to the design with which these 
remarks were commenced, it remains to point 
out the powerful and happy tendency of the 
Bible in reforminn; the moral character of 
man, — and thus to save him, in a great de- 
gree, from the miseries of this life ; and to 
furnish him the best consolation and support 
under those from which he cannot escape. 
To improve the heart, indeed, is the purpose 
for which the Bible is professedly given : 
its fitness to answer this purpose declares 
the wisdom and goodness of its divine 
Author. Many of the afflictions which man 
is doomed to suffer in this life, are the neces- 
sary and immediate result of his own folly, 
imprudence and wickedness; of his wilful 



96 

neglect of the lessons taught him in the 
Bible, and his persevering disobedience to 
its precepts. From all these miseries, those 
who understand, believe and obey this holy 
book, will be preserved. 

It is obvious that man requires a daily sus- 
tenance, adapted to his animal nature, and 
that this sustenance is to be provided by his 
own labour. Economy, in the management 
and use of the fruit of this labour, is therefore 
a duty which we owe to ourselves, to each 
other, and to God. We have no rules laid 
down in systematic order on this subject : 
yet we have the words of our Saviour, 
which, taken in connection with the occa- 
sion on which they were spoken, will furnish 
a complete, though compendious system of 
economy — Gather up the fragments that re- 
main^ that nothing be lost. Here was no 
immediate want, for all were satisfied ; yet 
this is no excuse for criminal waste. The 
disciples might have supposed, after witness- 
ing this astonishing miracle, that the broken 
pieces which were left, were not worthy of 
any care. He teaches them, however, a 
different lesson ; these fragments are to be 
carefully preserved for future occasions. 
Was the spirit of this example and this pre- 
cept in full operation, it would prevent a 
very great amount of perplexity and suffer- 



97 

ing. There are thousands who, with eco- 
nomy, might enjoy all the real comforts of 
hfe, and fill a respectable station in society; 
and yet by wastefulness and inattention to 
small matters, soon find their resources in- 
sufficient for their wants. A debt is con- 
tracted to supply the present deficiency. 
The same want of economy prevails, and 
prevents the acquisition of means to dis- 
charge, at the proper time, this debt. Ano- 
ther debt, however, is contracted to dis- 
charge the first, and to supply another de- 
ficiency, arising out of the same wasteful 
habit. Though without economy, they are 
not yet, perhaps, without credit; another 
debt of still larger amount is contracted. 
Credit, at length, begins to fail ; and pay- 
ment is more and more urgently solicited, 
but cannot be conveniently made. Per- 
plexities beginning to thicken around them, 
some other expedient must be tried ; but not 
the expedient of economy and self-denial. 
There is a prospect of speculations, which 
may have a fortunate issue ; prizes of large 
amount are floating in the lottery wheel ; a 
ticket will not cost much, and it may draw 
a prize. The speculation however fails ; 
the ticket comes out a blank. The amount 
of debt is increased by the means intended 
to discharge it. Creditors become more 
9 



98 

urgent ; the civil officer is employed ; pro- 
perty is sold, and the debts are not paid. 
Perplexity ripens into trouble ; the terrible 
oath of insolvency is taken. Ways and 
means are suggested, and too often pursued, 
not consistent with strict honesty, but which, 
it is thought, necessity demands, and will, 
perhaps^ justify. Their independence, their 
standing in society, and in some degree their 
regard to character, are lost; strong induce- 
ments to correct deportment are withdrawn ; 
the door to injustice, fraud, and vice is 
opened, and too often entered ; and trouble 
matures into actual misery. We would not 
affirm that in every case, all this is the con- 
sequence of wastefulness alone ; other causes, 
as will presently appear, may co-operate in 
commencing and hastening this progress to 
ruin and distress. Observation, however, 
will justify the conclusion, that much of it 
might be prevented by habits of economy, 
by gathering up the fragments, and taking 
care that nothing be lost. 

Small matters are neglected and suffered 
to waste, merely because they are small. 
Separately considered, their value may be 
but little ; yet collectively, they will amount 
to something of consequence. The frag- 
ments which our Saviour directed to be 
gathered up, were small broken pieces, 



99 

separately of little value ; but when col- 
lected, they filled hvelve baskets — a very im- 
portant provision for future want. If our 
resources be scanty, economy will enable us 
to derive from them the greatest degree of 
comfort which they can yield ; if they be 
ample, by gathering up the fragments, we 
will be enabled to do so much the more 
good, and to taste so much the more of that 
blessedness which arises from giving, from 
preventing or relieving the sufferings of 
others. The man, whose moderate income 
is no more than sufficient for his own sup- 
port, by economy, will derive more real en- 
joyment from that income, and will maintain 
his independence, so dear to every human 
heart ; and this noble independence will in- 
crease his influence, his respectability and 
usefulness in society. The man of more 
affluent circumstances, by exercising econo- 
my in the provisions of his table, in the ex- 
pense of his furniture and his drsss, without 
diminishing his rational comfort in the least, 
might increase the means of doing good, and 
elevate himself in the estimation of others. 
That man is mistaken who expects his res- 
pectability and influence to be in proportion 
to the sumptuous provisions of his table, and 
the expensiveness of his dress and his furni- 
ture. The epicure will admire his table, to 



100 

which he will be drawn by all the power of 
appetite, and thousands will admire the 
elegance of his dress and his equipage. But 
what kind of feeling is this, and of what real 
value is it in the view of well improved 
minds ? That of the epicure is merely an 
animal feeling, and has no regard to either 
intellectual or moral excellence as its ob- 
ject ; that of others is evanescent, and if it 
has any object among human beings, it is, 
not the proprietor, but the artist by whom 
the articles which excite these feelings were 
made. 

Moral excellence is the object of the most 
valuable and the most desirable feelings of 
the human heart: this alone renders a man 
truly respectable and beloved by others. 
Active and persevering beneficence gives 
rise to that influence, and calls forth those 
affections most desirable to a good and a 
wise man. To such a man the blessing of 
those who were ready to perish is a thousand 
times more grateful than all the admiration 
wealth ever produced. Look at the man 
whose influence depends on his wealth ; you 
will see him surrounded with multitudes who 
admire the glitter which affluence throws 
around him, and with other multitudes of 
obsequious and cringing dependents. But 
the man is no sooner in his grave than all 



101 

this feeling is transferred to his successor; 
for wealth, and not moral excellence, is its 
object. Compare with this man the benevo- 
lent Howard, whose path was through the 
prison and the dungeon — whose home was 
with the friendless and distressed — the very 
fragments of whose fortune were preserved 
and devoted to the relief of human misery. 
The influence of Howard remains indicated 
bj that warmth of approbation with which 
the heart is drawn towards him. Posterity 
will feel and acknowledge the lasting influ- 
ence of that pure and active benevolence 
with which his Hfe w^as distinguished. Take 
the lady around whom wealth has shed its 
most fascinating splendours; compare the 
feelings associated with her name, with those 
which are strongly associated with the name 
of Isabella Graham. The name of the one 
awakens the remembrance of the sumptuous 
collation, the tumult of the merry dance, the 
gaieties of the splendid drawing-room: the 
name of the other is associated with labours 
of love, with tears of sorrow wiped away, 
with the widow's heart singing for joy, with 
destitute orphans, clothed, instructed and 
cherished with maternal tenderness. Which 
of these would you rather be, in the estima- 
tion and feelings of posterity ? which of them, 
in the view of our omniscient Judge ? With- 
er 



102 

out economy, neither Howard nor Mrs. Gra- 
ham could have done as much good as they 
actually have done; and it is by the good 
they have done they live in our hearts, and 
will continue to live in the hearts of unborn 
generations ; when the name of those who 
squandered their wealth on mere animal 
gratifications, on the gaieties of life, shall be 
forgotten. When mere animal appetite is to 
be gratified, the table of the rich is welcome ; 
when literary taste seeks for pleasure, the 
productions of genius are valued ; but when 
sorrow and distress are to be relieved, when 
the w^ounded spirit is to be healed, the bleed- 
ing heart to be soothed and comforted, we 
naturally look to the man of economical 
habits, of benevolent dispositions, of tender 
and compassionate feelings. How strong 
and how endearing, then, should be our at- 
tachment to Jesus Christ, the friend of the 
helpless, the Saviour of sinners ; and how un- 
bounded the influence with which he should 
reign over our hearts and our lives ! 

A vast amount of human misery may be 
traced to idleness, all which would be pre- 
vented by preventing the idleness from which 
it flows. Those who observe the Bible as 
their rule of hfe will be preserved from this 
vicious habit, which, in that holy volume, is 
most explicitly reprobated, and its tendency 



103 

to misery clearly pointed out. An idle soul 
shall suffer hunger : That ye study to he quiet, 
and to do your own business, and to work with 
your own hands, as we commanded you j that 
ye may walk honestly toward them that arc 
without, and that ye may have lack of nothing. 
From these and other passages which might 
be quoted, it appears that want, pinching 
want, is the consequence of idleness ; and our 
own observation confirms the remark. The 
manna no longer falls from the clouds, nor 
does the earth yield her increase without the 
labour of man. His wants cannot be sup- 
plied without his own industry, nor can his 
appetite be long denied. Hence a state of 
want opens the door to vice of the most atro- 
cious character. The prayer of Agur is as 
wise as it is pious — Remove far from me — 
poverty ; lest I be poor and steal, and take the 
name of my God in vain. That man whose 
moral principle does not restrain him from 
idleness, will probabl}^ not hesitate to steal, 
or resort to some dishonest method of pro- 
curing his daily subsistence. The next step 
will be, in order to escape suspicion and de- 
tection, to take the name of God in vain, 
either in false and profane asseverations of 
his innocence, or in actual perjury. He will 
not, however, be believed ; he cannot live 
without the supplies which nature requires ; 



104 

if these are not provided by honest industry, 
they must be obtained in some other way. 
His idleness, therefore, will be a much 
stronger proof of his guilt, than his profane 
and positive declarations, or even his perjury, 
can be of his innocence. Sooner or later, 
he will be detected, and detection will be 
followed by punishment and disgrace. If 
none but the worthless idler himself was in- 
volved, the case would not be so distressing ; 
but his family and his relatives are heirs to 
some degree of this misery and disgrace, and 
especially if among these there should be a 
pious heart, that heart will feel an anguish 
not surpassed by the piercing of a thousand 
daggers. 

The human mind is naturally active, and 
will be employed ; if not engaged in some 
regular and useful occupation, it will be em- 
ployed in disturbing the peace of society. 
Withal, says Paul, speaking of certain cha- 
racters, they learn to be idle, wandering about 
from house to house ; and not only idle, but 
tattlers also, and busy-bodies, speaking things 
which they ought not. Paul was a philoso- 
pher, as well as an inspired writer. Tell 
him the nature of a cause, and he will tell 
you the effects which will result from its 
operation. Tell him that a woman (and it 
is of women he is here speaking) is neither 



105 

employed in looking zvell to the zvays of her 
household^ nor in works of charity, nor in 
religious duties, but is idle ; he will tell you, 
that if she is not led from a sense of duty to 
a life of industry, she will have no resources 
within herself to furnish the mind with 
pleasing employment, she will seek a refuge 
from the barrenness and solitude of her own 
vacant mind in the company of others ; that 
as the company of such a person can neither 
be very useful nor agreeable, she will not be 
pressed to make long visits ; she will there- 
fore go from house to house ; but as she 
wishes to appear of some consequence, and 
that her visits may appear to have some ob- 
ject, she will necessarily become a tattler^ 
she will overflow with trifling, impertinent 
and mischievous conversation ; and in order 
to collect abundant materials for this cease- 
less tale-hearings she will next become a 
busy-body, impertinently meddling with the 
concerns of others, officiously offering her 
advice, insidiously tempting them to an un- 
reserved expression of their opinion ; with 
eagerness she will catch what they say ; and 
what they do not say, she will supply from 
suspicion and conjecture : dressing up the 
whole with her own exaggeration, misrepre- 
sentation and colouring, she will fly from 
house to house, the herald of scandal, and 



106 

the harbinger of strife and contention. Who 
has not witnessed the peace of famihes dis- 
turbed, whole neighbourhoods enibroiled in 
discord and cruel animosities which termi- 
nate, perhaps, only with life, by the mis- 
chievous prattling of one such tale-bearer? 
Her idleness and her officious meddhng, her 
empty, perhaps malicious loquacity, will soon 
recoil, with fearful effect, upon herself. 
When her character is known, her presence 
will impose a restraint on that free and un- 
reserved conversation, which is the life of 
friendship, and which might flow with safety 
into bosoms under the restraint of religious 
principle. She will be the terror of society; 
and her visits will be dreaded by all families 
who wish to live in peace and harmony. 
One sinner desiroyeth much good. Contrast- 
ed with such an one, how blessed is the peace 
maker ! 

Compare with this tattler, the character 
of the virtuous woman, given in the 30th 
chapter of Proverbs. The one has lost the 
confidence and affection of all ; the other is 
highly esteemed and beloved — for her price 
is above rubies ^ especially does the heart of 
her husband, who knows her best, repose in 
her with perfect safety. The one is idle, 
working not at all \ the other looketh well to 
the ways of her household, and eateth not the 



107 

bread of idleness ; she provides clothing for 
her family, and they are not afraid of the 
snow. Nor is it an excuse for idleness that 
her own family are abundantly supplied ; she 
has other important objects to answer with 
the fruit of her industry ; she maketh fine 
linen and selleth it^ and delivereth girdles to 
the merchant. Thus she is provided with 
the means of doing good and relieving the 
sufferings of others ; she stretcheth out her 
hand to the poor ; yea, she reacheth forth her 
hands to the needy. The tattler is wander- 
ing about, speaking things which she ought 
not, with an untamed, unbridled tongue, full 
of deadly poison, setting on fire the course of 
nature y the virtuous woman openeth her 
mouth with wisdom^ and in her tongue is the 
law of kindness, tlowwide is the difference, 
perceived from this contrast ! The one is 
idle, wandering about tattling, impertinently 
meddling, retailing scandal, sowing the seeds 
of discord ; and as the consequence of all 
this, she is suspected, shunned, dreaded, ne- 
glected, and has not a sincere friend on earth. 
The other is industrious, a keeper at home, 
peaceful, charitable, kind ; and as the natural 
consequence of this, she is respected, es- 
teemed, beloved, and finds a friend in every 
virtuous heart. Behold the fruits of idle- 
ness, in the one case, and avoid it ; see the 



108 

fruits of laudable industry, in the other, and 
pursue it. Obey the earnest command and 
exhortation of Paul, intended to prevent 
idleness with all its numerous and disastrous 
effects : Kozu them that are such [idlers, busy- 
bodies,] we command and exhort^ hy our Lord 
Jesus Christy that with quietness they work, 
and eat their own bread. 

Idleness is particularly dangerous to youth. 
At this interesting period the mind should be 
disciplined by regular attention to some use- 
ful occupation ; the character should be 
formed, and habits acquired, which will pro- 
mise usefulness and respectability in future. 
At this season the thoughts are naturally va- 
grant, the passions are warm and impetuous, 
and readily follow the wayward thoughts 
which excite them. The more the mind is 
left without the influence of wholesome re- 
straint, the more it loves this kind of freedom, 
and the more impatient of control does it be- 
come. When the youth applies to his daily 
pursuit, not from inclination, nor from a sense 
of his own interest, nor from confirmed 
habit, but merely from a regard to the autho- 
rity of his parents or instructors, the effects 
of idleness for one month, or even one week, 
will be very perceivable. The loss will be, 
not simply in proportion to the number of 
days or hours for which attention has been 



109 

suspended, but also in proportion to the dis- 
sipation of thought, which has been the result 
of this internaission. At the end of this 
month or week the mind will not return to 
its regular pursuit with the same facility of 
application, with the same force of habit, 
which it possessed at the commencement. 
The boatman, ascending the stream, who in- 
termits his exertions for ten minutes, will 
have lost, not simply the distance which he 
could have ascended in that time, but the 
distance also by which the current has car- 
ried him farther from the point of his desti- 
nation : several minutes will be required to 
reach the point where his efforts ceased. 
The youthful mind is carried forward chiefly 
by authority operating on it from without, 
and not by motives which exist within itself. 
The moment authority ceases to operate, the 
mind is borne away by the current of its own 
thoughts and passions in a different, and most 
probably, in an opposite direction ; time is, 
therefore, required to regain the point from 
which it has thus been carried away. 

Now, if we are not greatly mistaken, this 
shows the reason why many a youth is ruined, 
who might have been a respectable and use- 
ful member of society, and a comfort to his 
friends — an injudicious exercise of this autho- 
rity. It is absolutely a burlesque on human 
10 



no 

nature to suppose, as some, claiming the 
character of philosophers, have done, that a 
child is not to be subjected to any control, 
but be left to its own reason for a guide ; as 
this strengthens, it is alleged, it will more 
and more clearly perceive and pursue the 
correct course. Long before reason can be 
supposed to have reached that maturity which 
would answer this purpose, thought is awak- 
ened, and passions are called into exercise. 
These passions are the current by which the 
mind is first moved. The child has yet no 
reason to guide this current, and the philo- 
sophy of the father will not permit his reason 
to interpose ; the current is, therefore, suf- 
fered to take its own course. These pas- 
sions are all to be indulged, for denial would 
be the exercise of authority, and every in- 
dulgence increases their strength. When 
reason, at length, casts its first feeble view 
on the world, through which it is to guide 
the child, the youth, and the man, it sees 
that world not as it really is, but as it ap- 
pears through the perverting medium of the 
passions. Reason begins to unfold and to 
act under the full and established influence 
of the passions. If the reason of the father, 
with all his knowledge and experience of the 
world, did not attempt to control these pas- 
sions, can the reason of the child be expected 



Ill 

to turn their strong and impetuous current? 
The singularity of this philosophy is, that the 
child, whose passions are strong, whose rea- 
son is weak, whose knowledge of the world 
is extrennely limited, should be expected to 
acomplish a task which the father, whose 
reason is fully matured, whose knowledge of 
the world, both from observation and expe- 
rience, is extensive, has not attempted to do. 
The first conclusions of reason in the child 
will most probably be of this nature — My 
father who loves me, and who is much bet- 
ter qualified than I am to judge of the course 
I should pursue, has never denied, but always 
indulged me ; I therefore conclude that this 
is the proper course. Reason comes into 
exercise — the pupil, or rather the subject of 
the passions. The reports which the under- 
standing receives from the world without, of 
what is right and wrong, good and evil, ho- 
nourable and dishonourable, proper and im- 
proper, are all made by the passions. These 
reports are the materials with which reason 
forms its first decisions ; and it is easy to see 
that they will be in favour of the passions : 
indeed, according to the constitution of the 
human mind, they cannot be otherwise. A 
character formed on the principles of this 
philosophy, is one governed by the passions ; 
reason has no other province, in fact, is per- 



112 

mitted to do nothing else, than to devise 
ways and means for the indulgence of these 
sovereigns of the mind. Yet some profess 
to admire this system as a great improvement 
ill education — as a method calculated to 
raise the human mind to the highest point of 
perfection, and thus promote, by rapid strides, 
the prosperity and happiness of society. We 
have known a few characters formed after 
this model ; and certainly we could not envy 
the parents the satisfaction they derived from 
the experiment; nor could the community 
very loudly boast of them as a valuable ac- 
quisition. A few weeks, during the late revo- 
lution in France, exhibit, on a large scale, 
the genuine tendency of this philosophy. 
May the loud trumpet of the angel summon 
this world to its last account, before another 
such exhibition is witnessed ! You might as 
well take the reins of civil government from 
the enlightened and the wise, and place them 
in the hands of the ignorant, headstrong rab- 
ble, and call this a great improvement in 
political science. You might as well require 
a man to view every object through an instru- 
ment composed of glasses highly discoloured, 
and of diiferent convexities, and call this a 
wonderful improvement in optics. You 
might as well deprive the ship of its compass 
and its rudder, leave it to drive before the 



113 

wind and the tide, and call this a great im- 
provement in navigation. Neither of these 
cases involves a greater absurdity than it 
does to withdraw entirely -the judicious ex- 
ercise of parental authority, and commit the 
government of a child to its own blind and 
impetuous passions. 

Either in conformity with this prepos- 
terous theory, or from criminal and inex- 
cusable negligence, parental authority often 
interposes at a period entirely too late to 
produce any good results. When the cha- 
racter has received its cast ; when habits are 
formed ; when the thoughts have taken their 
direction ; when the passions are confirmed 
in unresisted dominion ; the restraints of in- 
terposing authority will be spurned away ; 
and the attitude of defiance, which the 
youth himself will, no doubt, call noble in- 
dependence, will be assumed. It is now too 
late to mould the character into any other 
form than that which the passions will give 
it. The gentle rill may easily be led into 
another channel ; but when swollen into an 
impetuous torrent, it defies such efforts, and 
rushes forward in its accustomed course. 
This youth is the disturber and the pest of 
schools and academies, and the patron of 
tumult and rebellion in colleges. Reaching 
the years of manhood, without mental disci- 
10* 



114 

pline to render him useful, without virtuous 
principle to restrain him, he lives only to 
gratify his licentious passions. This indul- 
gence is sought, regardless of the rights, the 
peace, or the happiness of others. His ex- 
ample spreads around him a contagion more 
dangerous than that of the most deadly dis- 
ease. Female innocence and honour are 
never safe in his presence ; they will be-de- 
stroyed for his indulgence without hesitation 
and without compunction. The life of his 
most intimate friend will be sacrificed to 
gratify the pride of his haughty and resent- 
ful spirit. He moves through society like a 
volcano ; the bursting forth of his passions 
will blast every vestige of virtue within its 
reach, and whelm in indiscriminate ruin 
every thing that stands in the way. 

Sometimes this authority commences at a 
period sufficiently early ; but it is too feeble 
to produce any good etfect. The child soon 
learns to estimate the strength of that arm by 
which it is to be governed ; and by a few 
trials, will ascertain the degree of importu- 
nity and perseverance which will obtain 
permission to take its own course. A sys- 
tem of judicious rules is laid down, but not 
enforced w^ith sufficient firmness : the child 
soon learns the art of transgressing with im- 
punity, and of obtaining the forbidden indul- 



115 

gence. The parent may think that he is 
discharging his duty ; but the child is its own 
governor: there is the name and the appear- 
ance of authority, but not the reality. The 
only habit formed in the child, is the habit 
of seeking and contending for its own indul- 
gence. The authority of others is irregular 
and capricious. One day it is exercised 
with decision ; but the next, it is in a great 
measure, if not entirely, relaxed. The child, 
while under the influence of this authority, 
is anticipating the hour of relaxation, when 
it will enjoy the freedom of unrestrained in- 
dulgence. All that is gained one day is lost 
the next; no habit of regular application, or 
of submission is formed. One day authority 
urges the child forward in the correct course ; 
the next, it is led by inclination and passion. 
These fluctuating eflbrts are not calculated 
to form a character for usefulness or respect- 
ability. There are others who exercise their 
authority only under the impulse of anger or 
resentment, which they either cannot, or do 
not take pains to conceal. Correction is 
sometimes administered with a severity al- 
together disproportioned to the fault ; a slight 
offence is sometimes harshly reprimanded, 
while at another time, one of more danger- 
ous tendency, under a less degree of feeling, 
is suffered to pass with impunity. The child 



116 

soon learns to associate this authority, not 
with its own advantage, but with the gratifi- 
cation of the parent. It is not taught to con- 
sider its own passions as worthy of blame 
or correction ; but the parent's irritation- is 
blamed and regretted as the only obstacle in 
the way of its unbounded pleasure. Such a 
government, dictated, not by reason, nor by 
that wisdom which cometh down from above, 
but by the displeasure and resentment of the 
parent, will issue in no happy result ; for the 
zvrath of man zuorketh not the righteousness 
of God, To such authority the youthful 
mind will submit with the greatest impa- 
tience, and the hour of escape from its un- 
welcome restraints will be anticipated with 
eager dehght, as the hour of freedom, inde- 
pendence and happiness. That hour will 
come before this youth is prepared, by 
proper discipline of mind, by habits of ap- 
plication, industry and self-control, for a life 
of usefulness and respectability. 

Many a youth, otherwise promising, is 
materially injured, and not a few are utterly 
ruined, by some radical defect in the train- 
ing of their early years. Application to any 
regular business is, to them, irksome and in- 
tolerable. The gratification of their passions, 
the supreme law of their life, cannot be ob- 
tained without invading the rights, disturbing 



117 

the peace, and destroying the happiness of 
others. 

We cannot but notice the wisdom and 
goodness of those precepts of the Bible 
which relate to the education of children. 
They are adapted to what human nature 
has been found to be in all countries and in 
all ages. Instead of countenancing the opin- 
ion that the infant mind is a mere blank, 
without tendency to either good or evil, and 
susceptible of impressions alike from both, 
we are taught that from the very birth, the 
mind is depraved, or has a decisive tendency 
to that which is wrong; that its very first 
actings and emotions are evil. For several 
years the child is utterly incapable of go- 
verning itself; yet during these years, much 
of the arduous and difficult task of education 
may be accomplished, by forming habits of 
cheerful submission to the dictates of pa- 
rental wisdom and prudence. The Bible 
recognises the parent, under whose care the 
€hild is placed, as the person whose duty it 
is to perform this task. The great object 
which the parent should aim to accomplish, 
is the judicious control of the passions. In 
most cases, it is easier, and requires less ef- 
fort, to prevent passion, than to manage and 
subdue it when excited. When they are 
excited, and this, after all the caution which 



118 

can be used, will too often be the case, pa- 
rental authority should interpose and prevent 
their indulgence. Fathers^ provoke not your 
children to anger. The wisdom and good- 
ness of this precept is forgotten or disre- 
garded by those who, for their own amuse- 
ment, unnecessarily teaze and provoke chil- 
dren to fretfulness and anger. These per- 
sons may be amused with such needless irri- 
tation of the child ; but they are doing it a 
serious injury, rendering the task of the 
parent more difficult, and are violating the 
precept of God. Passions once excited, 
will more easily be excited again ; and the 
more frequently they are roused, the more 
violent and the more unmanageable do they 
become. Parents, provoke not your chil- 
dren, lest they be discouraged. If the au- 
thority of the parent is weak, capricious, 
exercised with evident displeasure, some- 
times enforced and sometimes suspended, 
interposing with severity for mere trifles, 
the result of thoughtless indiscretion, and 
suffering more serious and designed offences 
to escape with impunity, the child will not 
know by what means to secure the approba- 
tion of the parent, will of course, be dis- 
couraged, and give up the attempt as en- 
tirely hopeless. The whole duty of the 
parent is included in this precept — Train up 



119 

a child in the way in which it should go. — 
With this view, authority should be exercised 
with constancy, with judgment, with decision, 
and yet with tenderness and affection. By 
persevering in this plan, through the aid of 
divine grace, the child will be trained and 
confirmed in the habit of willing and cheer- 
ful submission to authority ; and this, we 
assuredly believe, however widely others 
may differ in opinion, is, at once, the most 
important j and the most difficult part of 
education. When this habit is well estab- 
lished, the task of the instructor, either in 
literature or in the mechanical arts, will be 
easy and delightful. The man thus trained, 
accustomed to control his passions by the 
dictates of wisdom and prudence, will be 
prepared to render a cheerful obedience to 
the laws of the state ; and, as far as human 
efforts can produce such an effect, will be 
prepared to bow to the high and holy au- 
thority of Heaven, the most reasonable, just, 
mild and benign authority in the universe. 
This may be found a difficult task ; but 
should not be given up in despair ; for it is 
the nurture and admonition of the Lord ^ and 
the Lord will assist the honest efforts made 
in obedience to his will. The child thus 
trained up, when he is old, he will not depart 
from it. 



120 

By idleness, we mean the want of some 
regular and useful occupation, which, whether 
it gives exeicise to the body or not, will cer- 
tainly give exercise to the mind; will furnish 
habitual employment for the thoughts. The 
man whose thoughts are not thus employed, 
is idle ; and idleness of this kind generally 
fosters the passions, and gives them a very 
pernicious and undue ascendency. There 
are some professions, indispensable to the 
good order and happiness of society, which 
give too littb exercise to the body, and yet 
call for the utmost vigour of mental exertion. 
The man, engaged in these professions, may 
be most actively and usefully employed, and 
yet his body may even suffer for want of 
exercise. Such men deserve not the re- 
proach of idleness. He is idle whose exer- 
tions are not calculated to increase the 
amount of human enjoyment. He who is 
inactive is the drone of society, feeding, 
without shame, on the labour of others : he 
who is active in wickedness infuses poison 
into the veins of society. 

By industry we economise our time, gath- 
er up its fragments, and suffer nothing to be 
lost. The talent of turning every hour to 
some good account is a most desirable, be- 
cause a most useful one. The amount of 
good resulting from the industry of a man^ 



121 

who improves these fragments of time, com- 
pared with one who, though not unemployed 
suffers them to be lost, will be very consider- 
able, in the course of an ordinary life. Nor 
can any person, we conceive, plead an ex- 
emption from this obligation. If his own 
necessities do not require it, the suffering of 
others may be relieved by the fruit of this 
extra industry. From the sentence pronoun- 
ced on man, immediately after the fall, it 
would appear that the comfortable subsist- 
ence ofthe human family, requires the labour 
and exertion, in some way or other, of every 
member of that family. If one is idle, some 
other one must, therefore, be taxed with 
more than his equal share of this labour. If 
one is found wasting the means of subsistence 
in the criminal indulgence of his passions 
and appetites, the want and suffering of an- 
other will be the consequence of this indul- 
gence. Industry, economy and charity 
should aim at equalising these toils and these 
sufferings. 



11 



122 



SECTION II. 

Intemperance — Importance of truth, justice, honesty — 
Effects of sinful passions. 

Intemperance, often the consequence of 
idleness, is another pregnant source of hu- 
man misery ; all of which would be prevented 
by observing the wise and salutary precepts 
of the Bible. It is a proof of the divme 
goodness, that provision is made to satisfy 
the appetites of our animal nature; and a 
proof, not less obvious, of the same goodness 
is seen in prohibiting the indulgence of these 
appetites, beyond what nature requires. 
When sanctified by the word of God and 
prayer, and when received with thanksgiving, 
every creature of God is good^ and nothing 
to be refused. But the moment these limits 
are disregarded, and our gratification is car- 
ried to excess, that moment it becomes per- 
nicious to ourselves, and criminal in the sight 
of God. The law of Moses, given immedi- 
ately from God himself, who is the author of 
our nature, and who knows what is incon- 
sistent with our happiness, punishes with 



123 

death, a stubborn, rebellious and intemper- 
ate son — Deut. xxi. 20: If the parents shall 
say to the elders of the city^ this our son is 
stubborn and rebellious^ he is a glutton and a 
drunkard ; all the men of the city shall stone 
him with stones that he die. The will of 
God is good ; and every departure froui it 
will, sooner or later, be productive of misery, 
in proportion to this goodness. Intemperance 
is followed by a train of incalculable sutfer- 
ings. It is open and deliberate rebellion 
against God ; leads directly to poverty, wastes 
the health of the body, and destroys the life 
of thousands. Temperance, which is self- 
government, or moderation in the enjoyment 
of animal pleasures, is conducive to the 
health and vigour both of mind and body. 
He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man ; 
he that loveth wine and oil shall not be rich ; 
for the drunkard and the glutton shall come 
to poverty. The observation of every person 
will convince him of the truth of these de- 
clarations. Hence the goodness of the follow- 
ing cautions, prohibitions and warnings : — 
Take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your 
hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and 
drunkenness and the cares of this rvorld ; 
when thou sittest to eat with a ruler, consider 
diligently what is before thee ; and put a knife 
to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appe^ 



124 

tite : be not desirous of his dainties, for they 
are deceitful meats : let us walk honestly as in 
the day, not in rioting and drunkemiess, not 
in chambering and wantonness : make no pro- 
vision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof: 
use this world as not abusing it. The nu- 
merous and disastrous consequences of in- 
temperance have proclaimed, and do loudly 
proclaim that goodness which exhorts us to 
be temperate in all things. 

The intemperate use of ardent spirits, 
particularly, so frequently and so pointedly 
condemned in scripture, is an evil without a 
parallel in our beloved country. All the 
highway robbers, all the thieves, all the pil- 
ferers in the Union have not produced a 
tenth part of the misery which marks the 
progress of this insidious foe. All the flames 
which have threatened desolation to our 
cities, towns and villages, have not destroyed 
a thirtieth, and probably not a fiftieth part, of 
what is wasted, and worse than wasted, by 
this demon of destruction. It generates 
some of the most painful diseases to which 
our system is liable ; quenches the eye of 
genius in darkness, and degrades the most 
brilliant talents into mere drivelling childish 
imbecility : turns the wise man into a fool, 
and the peaceful and good-natured into furies 
of discord and contention. It destroys all 



125 

seiTsc of shame and moral obligation, and 
thus opens a wide door to every species of 
vice. It is the precursor of disputes, of 
quarreling and feuds, which often terminate 
in bloodshed. Who hath war F who hath sor- 
row ? who hath contention ? who hath bab- 
bling ? who hnth zvoiinds without cause ? who 
hath redness of eyes ? They that tarry long 
at the wine j they that go to seekmixt wine. 

Intemperance can boast a greater number 
of victims, and by far a greater amount of 
misery, than the sword of war. Could the 
calculation be accurately made, and was it 
to commence with the moment when the 
first American blood was shed on the plains 
of Lexington, embracing all whose life, dur- 
ing the revolutionary contest, was the price 
of our liberty ; all who fell, by land and by 
sea, during the late war ; all the trophies of 
the Indian tomahawk and scalping-knife ; 
together with all the grief occasioned by 
these deaths in the bosom of survivingfriends: 
and could a similar calculation be made, com- 
mencing from that moment down to the pre- 
sent, of all the deaths and all the sorrows 
occasioned by the intemperate use of ardent 
spirits, there is no doubt but the number of 
deaths would be greater, and the amount of 
grief more complicated and more poignant 
in the latter than in the former case. The 
11* 



126 

records of every year, since that time, of 
every city, every town, every village and 
every neighbourhood in our country would 
add to the catalogue of deaths and swell the 
amount of gloomy distress. During most of 
those years, the implements of war have re- 
mained unemployed ; but the angel of death 
has continued the work of destruction, by 
day and by night, without intermission. 

The same etfects may be expected, in time 
to come, from the same cause, unless it shall 
' please a gracious God to arrest its progress. 
Let the miseries arising from this source, for 
twenty years to come, be grouped before the 
mind. You will, in that group, see the man, 
who, by correct deportment, by industry and 
by temperance, rises to respectability and 
usefulness, sharing the merited esteem of nu- 
merous friends, seduced at length by this foe 
to the human race, tottering and falling, to 
rise no more; leaving a worthy family the 
victims of corroding sorrow, and the heirs of 
indigence and want. You will there see the 
young man, whose cultivated mind, whose 
promising talents, whose brilliant genius, have 
excited the joy of his parents and the hope 
of his friends, incautiously frequenting the 
haunts of intemperance, caught in the fatal 
snare, fast verging to disgrace, becoming a 
perfect nuisance in society, and rushing into 
a premature grave ; exchanging the joy of 



127 

his parents for anguish more intolerable than 
death, blasting the hope of his friends with 
all the bitterness of disappointment. How 
many wives will you there see, at the hour 
of midnight, to them a sleepless hour, suffer- 
ing a torture increasing with every moment 
their husbands are absent, and yet dreading 
their return with apprehensions not less in- 
tolerable than this torture itself! How many 
children will you see, left orphans in a world 
of unfeeling neglect, doomed to a life of un- 
pitied want, perhaps to beggary ! The pen- 
cil of West has immortalised his name by 
adorning the canvass with the Saviour, giving 
strength to the feeble, limbs to the maimed, 
soundness to the lame, sight to the blind and 
health to the sick. But of this group the 
figures requiring the strongest light, and 
claiming the most conspicuous place in the 
foreground ; the insidious advances and de- 
solating ravages of this monster; the convul- 
sions of death, and the premature graves ; 
the disappointed expectations and blasted 
hopes ; the touching scenes of grief ; the hag- 
gard forms of woe and despair, are too nu- 
merous and too complicated for the canvass to 
receive, and for the pencil of human skill to 
paint. Intemperance will hold the pencil ; 
our country is the canvass where all these 
scenes will be exhibited: and Omniscience 



128 

is the eye that will take them all in at one 
view. Let us beseech Almighty God to give 
success to his gospel — the only effectual 
remedy for all these nameless miseries. 

The Bible not only requires the moral 
virtues of truth, justice and honesty, but en- 
forces them with all the authority of heaven, 
and thus raises them to the rank of religious 
duties. From the frequency and earnestness 
with which these principles are inculcated, we 
may infer their beneficial tendency in pro- 
moting human happiness ; observation and 
experience prove the correctness of this in- 
ference. We see and we feel the disap- 
pointment, the mischief, the embarrassment, 
the distress arising from misrepresentations 
intended to deceive, from wilful falsehood, 
from injustice and fraud — all which evils 
would be prevented by a conscientious re- 
gard to the precepts of the Bible which cen- 
sures and condemns these vices — Ye shall 
not lie one to another. Putting arvay lyings 
speak every man truth with his neighbour. 
Lie not one to another^ seeing ye have put off 
the old man. A righteous man hateth lying. 
Ye shall not steals neither deal falsely. If 
thou sellest aught to thy rieighbour^ or if thou 
buyest aught of thy neighbour'' shand^ye shall 
not oppress one another. The gospel teaches 
us to live righteously ^ to do justice. This is 



129 

the will of God, that no man go beyond or 
defraud his brother in any matter^ because that 
the Lord is the avenger of all such. 

That departure from these evangelical 
principles which does the greatest nnischief 
in society, is found in those who claim a res- 
pectable standing for truth and honesty ; who 
would kindle with resentment at the insinua- 
tion that they were any thing but men of 
strict veracity and justice. The notorious 
liar will deceive but few ; for a lying tongue 
is but for a moment. The greatest injury is 
done to society, not, perhaps, by the thief 
and the robber, but by the numerous train of 
speculators, sharpers, swindlers, and those 
who carelessly or wilfully fail in fulfilling 
their promises, in complying with their con- 
tracts, in paying their debts. There are two 
classes of men whose honesty is not doubtful; 
the one embraces all those who never pay 
their just debts, until they are compelled by 
the civil law; the other, all those who owe 
no man any things who pay their debts punc- 
tually, and agreeably to their promise. 
There is a third class, embracing, probably, a 
large majority, of whose honesty the best, 
perhaps, that can be said, is that it is doubt- 
ful. A obtains and appropriates to his own 
use the property of B, and promises that 
on a particular day he will make a satisfacto- 



130 

ry compensation to B for the use of his 
property. The promise is reduced to writing, 
is signed, and sealed, and witnessed. The 
specified day arrives which is to testthe faith- 
fuhiess and honesty of A ; if the payment is 
made agreeable to promise, he is a man of 
sound integrity. Yet how often is it the 
case that the day arrives and passes away, 
and the payment is not made, the promise is 
not fulfilled. Where is the truth of this 
promise, and the justice of this delay ? The 
promise was that B should receive his com- 
pensation on a particular day ; but he does 
not receive it ; of course the promise was 
not true. B consented that A should have 
his property without payment till a certain 
day, but no longer. Every day, therefore, 
after the one specified, which A delays the 
payment, he holds this property not only 
without, but contrary to the consent of B. 
Can this be justice? If it be, what, then, is 
injustice? Our opinions on these subjects 
may be thought old-fashioned ; we know, in- 
deed, they are not fashionable ; because they 
are not very common. But in our humble 
opinion, there is neither truth in this promise, 
nor justice in this transaction. Nor can we 
deem it a sufficient excuse for A to allege 
that he was ready, on the appointed day, to 
make the payment, if B had called on him 



131 

for this purpose. It is, at least, implied in 
the promise of A, that he will go to B for 
this purpose. Still less satisfactory is the 
plea of forgetfulness. If he was to receive 
the payment, his memory, in all probability, 
would not be so treacherous. If truth and 
justice are matters of so much indifference 
with him, that he can so easily forget them, 
it is evident he is but little concerned to de- 
serve the character which he claims. If A, 
when he made the promise, depended, for 
the means of fulfilling it, on his own industry 
and economy, and he, at the same time, is 
idle and wasteful, he is culpable, of course, in 
the same proportion : such idleness and pro- 
digality are with the forfeiture of his fidelity 
and honesty. He indulges himself at the ex- 
pense of another, contrary to his consent. 
After the promise is made, and before the 
day arrives, if any occurrence should take 
place, which A could neither prevent nor 
foresee, and which puts it out of his power to 
comply with his engagement, then he is clear 
of suspicion; provided, as soon as possible, 
he makes B fully acquainted with the fact : 
the failure is owing to the providence of God, 
not to his want of principle. If, however, 
no such event has occurred ; if all the re- 
sources on which he depended have answered 
what might have reasonably been expected 



132 

from them; or if he made the promise without 
any reasonable prospect, known at the time, 
of being able to comply with it ; then, in ad- 
dition to falsehood and injustice, no ingenuity 
nor even sophistry, can save him from the 
charge of wilful deception. Had these im- 
probabilities and uncertainties been known, 
B would not, at least on the same terms, have 
given him possession of his property, nor 
placed the same confidence in his promise. 
This concealment, therefore, was fraudulent 
and criminal. It is not walking honestly to 
them who are without^ nor who are within the 
church. It is not providing things honest in 
the sight of all men, still less in the sight of 
the Lord, our Judge. 

B makes a similar promise to C, and trusts 
in the fidelity and honesty of A for the means 
of complying with his engagement. C, pla- 
cing confidence in B, makes a promise to D, 
and D again to E, and E to F, and so on. If 
A deceives B, the failure with all its conse- 
quences will roll on to C, and from C to D, 
and to E, and to F. F is urged for payment 
which he cannot make without a sacrifice. 
He is perplexed, and embarrassed, and his 
property is sold for one third of its value. F 
commences a similar process with E, and E 
with D, kc. all of whom are involved in 
trouble and loss. Each of them have fami- 



133 

lies who are involved in the same troubles; 
and whose reasonable expectations of future 
support and provision are blasted. Had A 
been a man of truth, and honesty, all this 
trouble and distress would have been pre- 
vented. Had the precepts of the gospel 
governed his heart and his life, he would 
have spoken the truth and acted honestly. 

This case is the representative often thou- 
sand others which bear to it a greater or less 
degree of similarity, and produce greater or 
less degrees of those evils which always attend 
the violation of truth and justice. We know, 
indeed, that a thousand excuses will be of- 
fered to shield the character from the charge 
of falsehood and fraud. This proves that 
there is an indifference, truly alarming, to- 
wards the authority of (lod, and to all that 
portion of human happiness which depends 
on the influence of truth and justice. I'he 
very excuse that is offered, does homage to 
the high importance and beneficial tendency 
of these sacred principles. He who offers it, 
wishes to enjoy the advantages and the plea- 
sures which he supposes may be obtained by 
falsehood and dishonesty, while he shrinks 
from the reproach they deserve. The person 
who is the guilty cause of miseries extending 
beyond his knowledge, perhaps to genera- 
tions yet unborn, lulls himself into indiffer- 
12 



134 

ence, and quiets his mind with the most 
frivolous excuse. As a madman who casteth 
firebrands^ arrows^ and death j so is he that 
deceiveth his neighbour, and saith, am not I 
m sport F As if society ought to suffer with- 
out complaint, for the pleasure of a base and 
fraudulent deceiver. 

One day, or one week later than the time 
specified, in performing a promise, is consi- 
dered a matter of too little consequence to 
deserve any blame. This, however, is as 
certainly a departure from truth as would be 
the delay often weeks, or often years. One 
drop contains all the properties of water as 
certainly as does the whole ocean ; for the 
whole ocean is made up of single drops. One 
inch from a given line is as certainly a de- 
parture from that line as ten inches, or even 
twenty miles are. Add inch to inch, and at 
length you will make up the twenty miles, 
which consist of a definite number of inches. 
The greatest instance of falsehood, and which 
affects most deeply the interests of society, 
differs not in nature, but only in degree, from 
falsehood relating to small matters. If one 
day involves no blame, neither does two, nor 
four, nor eight, nor any definite number you 
please to mention. Add together as many 
cyphers as you please, and the amount will 
still be nothing. If one day involves no 



135 

blame, neither does a year, nor even ten 
years, which are made up of a certain num- 
ber of days. The injustice is more flagrant, 
the falsehood is more palpable and pernicious 
in proportion to the time for which the ful- 
filment of the promise is delayed; of course, 
each day, the first, as well as every other, 
has its due proportion of blame. Sound in- 
tegrity of character is a unit; it cannot bear 
the slightest diminution, without injury. 

The violation of matrimonial vows is at- 
tended with a train of evils which it is not 
easy to express, though thousands are doomed 
to writhe under them. The bare suspicion 
of infidelity fills the bosom with disquietude, 
and preys, like a vulture, on the heart; the 
proof of guilt destroys the happiness and 
embitters the future life of the injured party. 
The magnitude of the mischief arising from 
this species of unfaithfulness, is literally in- 
calculable. The loss of affection, once so- 
lemnly pledged, the cold neglect, the bitter 
disappointment, the cruel insult, which is 
involved in every case of conjugal falsehood, 
make up the complicated injury, bequeathed 
to the miserable sufferer. The breach of 
this promise has in it all that is calculated to 
give aggravation to guilt in the sight of God, 
and all that is calculated to give poignancy 
to grief in the human heart. The promise 



136 

of fidelity is generally, and ought universally 
to be nnade as the result of affections, excited 
and cherished by the view of qualities, at 
once amiable and desirable in their object; 
it is generally accompanied with those reli- 
gious ceremonies which bring the parties to 
recognize their invisible Judge as the witness 
of their mutual sincerity. The deliberate 
and wanton violation of such a promise is 
marked with a dereliction of principle, and 
with a turpitude of character which cannot 
easily be surpassed ; and is productive of 
that complicated anguish which can find no 
refuge, and admits of no relief in this world. 
Even the kind hand of religion cannot pluck 
this thorn from the heart, and heal the wound 
which it inflicts. The grave is the only 
refuge to which the victims of this base infi- 
delity can look for complete deliverance. 
Multitudes who are the authors of this ex- 
quisite suffering, who deserve the deepest 
brand of infamy, yet dare to show their 
shameless faces in decent society, and look 
for that respect which is due only to the vir- 
tuous and the good : and it is a melancholy 
proof of the v^ant of correct principle, and of 
the low^ state of moral and religious feeling, 
that they do not meet, wherever they appear, 
those indignant frowns which would be too 
intolerable for them to bear. 



137 

No man can read the Bible without per- 
ceiving with what just severity this species 
of falsehood and injustice is censured and 
condemned. Criminals of this description 
generally disregard the discipline of the 
church ; and for various reasons too often 
escape the penalties of the civil law : thus 
they pass with triumphant impunity. They 
can, however, escape but for a short time ; 
such transgressors God will judge : He 
alone can inflict a punishment proportioned 
to their guilt, and to the sufferings they occa- 
sion to others. If the frowns of society do 
not repulse them, the frowns of Jehovah will 
pursue them with everlasting disgrace. 

Universal experience and observation will 
justify us in affirming that much, very much 
of the miseries of this life may be traced back 
to the sinful and wicked passions of men as 
their cause. By observing that darkness 
uniformly retires before the rising sun, and 
returns again when he is withdrawn, we 
conclude that the sun is the cause of light, 
and of day, and that darkness is the conse- 
quence of his absence. In like manner, by 
observing that suffering, in a greater or less 
degree, is the concomitant of these guilty 
passions, we infer that the one is the cause 
of the other. 

The bosom in which these passions exist 
12* 



138 

is not, and cannot be happy. The proud 
man is not happy. He spurns with contempt 
the adulation of the vulgar, as unworthy of 
his notice; his pride is nourished by the ap- 
probation of those alone, whose weight of 
character has raised them to the more ele- 
vated grades in society. Hence those who 
can minister to his gratification are compar- 
atively but few; and of this few, many of 
them will be his competitors for public 
applause. Two men governed by the spirit 
of pride, are said to be the most disagreeable 
companions to each other. They advance 
their mutual claims to meet with mutual de- 
nial and disappointment. Each one expects 
to receive what the other is not disposed to 
give. Pride is ever ready to receive, but 
never to bestow approbation; except per- 
haps, with the view of receiving the same in 
return, with more than legal interest. This, 
however, is more the artifice of that paltry 
kind of pride, called vanity, than of that lofty, 
though diabolical feeling of which we are 
speaking. Vanity, which feeds on the flat- 
tery of all without discrimination, and soon 
recovers from the pain of diappointment, is 
the feature of a weak mind : pride is the vice 
of a great mind, and can relish nothing but 
that applause which is unconstrained and 
sincere. The slightest suspicion that the 



139 

incense offered en its shrine is nothing but 
mere formality, not seasoned with sincerity, 
produces the bitterest disappointment and 
chagrin. If he sees others receiving those 
respectful acknowledgments which he covets, 
this excites in his bosom jealousy, envy, ha- 
tred, malice, and resentment ; passions which, 
like a host of furies, prey upon his peace. 
Proud men are not disposed to gratify him, 
because they consider him their rival and 
opponent ; men of real worth are not dis- 
posed to gratify him, because they consider 
it wrong to furnish indulgence for any vicious 
passion. Hence, his arrogant claims meeting 
with repulses from every quarter, his haughty 
spirit becomes, in his own breast, a source 
of vexation and disquietude. God and man 
agree in this one thing; that is in resisting 
the proud. If there is on earth a human be- 
ing whom you could wish to see devoid of 
peace, and unhappy, infuse into him the 
spirit of pride, and your object will be ac- 
complished. 

The ambitious man is not happy : his 
insatiable spirit, like the daughters of the 
horse-leech, is continually cry'mg^ give, give ^ 
and like the grave, never saith, it is enough. 
He enters the public arena with numerous 
competitors, who labour to elevate them- 
selves by thrusting him down. They scruti- 



140 

nise his character, suspect his motives, call 
in question his talent, thwart all his purposes, 
and view him as a public and licensed mark 
for the shafts of slander and reproach. 
Viewing them with the troubled eye of jea- 
lousy and envy, he contends with the same 
weapons, and employs the same methods for 
his own advancement, and derives the same 
enjoyment from their discomfiture. Through 
these tumultuous conflicts, along this perilous 
path, he urges his way towards the object of 
desire. Every ascent which he gains in- 
creases his desire, and redoubles his elforts 
to rise still higher. At length his eye fixes 
on the very summit of fame, and on the very 
highest post of honour, as the only limit of 
his boundless ambition. Nothing below this 
summit will quiet his restless spirit; and if 
this should, at length, be attained, a thousand 
bitter recollections of the past ascend with 
him as the inmates of his bosom ; a thousand 
suspicions and jealousies respecting the mo- 
tives and designs of others invade him; the 
envy of disappointed rivals, in a thousand 
forms and degrees haunt him, like spectres 
from the dead, and disturb his peace. The 
happiness which he fondly anticipated has 
fled from the station which he fills, and has 
left him heir to a nameless train of corroding 
anxieties. That ambition which increased 



141 

as he advanced, is now greater than at any 
former stage ; and yet having no higher ob- 
ject on which it can fix, it therefore becomes 
the tormentor of the bosom in which it exists. 
Such a mind can no more be at peace than 
can the ocean under the influence of the 
rushing tempest. 

If ambition dwells in the bosom of a chief, 
or a sovereign, his neighbours of the same 
grade become the objects of his suspicion 
and his jealousy. If they are his superiors, 
then, his wealth, his power, his royalty, avail 
him nothing, till he can equal tliem ; this 
accompHshed, his spirit cannot rest till he 
is their acknowledged superior. When the 
world is obsequious at his feet, he weeps that 
there are not more worlds in the same pros- 
trate condition. 

There is another passion which torments 
the bosom in which it is cherished ; that is, 
avarice. This is not only sinful in the sight 
of God, but it is ridiculous in the sight of 
men. The man who is under the domina- 
tion of this vice is necessarily unhappy. He 
feels a desire for the increase of his wealth 
which cannot be satisfied ; and all ungrati- 
fied desire, of this kind particularly, is sufier- 
ing. He that loveth silver^ shall not he 
satisfied with silver ; neither he that loveth 
abundance, with increase. He loves wealth 



142 

for its own sake, not as the means of inno- 
cent enjoyment, and still less of doing good. 
He prohibits himself from the enjoyment of 
it with a vigilance scarcely less constant and 
severe, than that with which he guards it 
from others. Supposing that the idol of his 
heart is as precious to others as it is to him- 
self, he is the victim of perpetual fear and 
dread, lest it should be wrested from him by 
the hand of violence. Though he dare not 
enjoy it, yet its safety is, to him, a source of 
the most anxious solicitude. The abundance 
of the rich will not suffer them to sleep. Nor 
does he consider, for whom do I labour^ and 
bereave my soul of good? His mean and 
sordid soul would be worthy of contempt, if 
his wretchedness and guilt did not advance 
much stronger claims to commiseration. 

The man who is under the influence of 
envy cannot be happy. The good, the ad- 
vantage, the enjoyment of others, especially 
of rivals and superiors, is the object of this 
feeling. The man voluntarily becomes his 
own tormentor because others are happy. 
Their deprivation, their misery, is the only 
relief his sufferings will admit of. It is said 
that Omnipotence can accomplish whatever 
is possible : is it possible, then, for God, who 
is infinite in goodness, and who delights in 
happiness, to create a rational creature who 



143 

can be happy while envy is a feature of his 
character? If he could, the fact is beyond 
our comprehension. He, therefore, who 
cherishes this passion must feel the suffering 
which it inflicts; there is no escaping from 
it. Envy sluyeth the silly one : envy is the 
rottenness of the hones. 

The sufferings which result from anger, 
are obvious to all men. The world could 
not persuade you that the man under its in- 
fluence is otherwise than unhappy. The 
flashing of his eye, his incoherent and hur- 
ried speech, his agitated frame, will force 
on your mind the conviction that, both in 
mind and body, he is suffering. Death is 
said to have been the consequence, in some 
instances, of violent paroxysms of this pas- 
sion ; and in many others, it is said to shorten 
life by generating painful and dangerous dis- 
eases. " Anger is particularly injurious to 
infants, who, from the sensibility of their 
frames, are extremely susceptible of this 
passion, and are sometimes so severely afflict- 
ed astodiesuddenly in convulsions, orto retain 
ever after an imbecility of mind and body 
arising from its powerful impression. We 
ought as rational agents to beware of encou- 
raging such destructive emotions ; for it is 
certain that men and women possessing an 
irascible temper generally die of pulmonary 



144 

consumptions ; and young persons, especially 
females, should be informed, that independ- 
ently of its moral turpitude, it deforms the 
face, steals the rose from the cheek of beauty, 
and not only tends to extinguish the most 
tender affections, but sometimes even pro- 
duces aversion." It is only, therefore, in 
the bosom of fools that a7iger resteth ; of those 
who are regardless of their own peace of 
mind, of their own health and the preserva- 
tion of their own lives. If the various mo- 
difications of this passion, malice, resentment, 
revenge, &lc. be less violent, they are for that 
very reason more permanent. These are 
the forms into which anger frequently sub- 
sides ; and they keep the mind in a state of 
habitual irritation and uneasiness until they 
are satiated by the infliction of punishment 
on their object. The effect of these pas- 
sions on the peace and tranquillity of the 
mind is greater, because it is uniform. The 
malevolent spirit is continually watching 
and secretly praying for the calamity of its 
object ; and if this calamity is escaped, pain- 
ful disappointment is the consequence. Re- 
venge is not satisfied with merely watching 
for calamity ; it devises ways and means for 
producing misfortune. Like a beast of prey, 
its enjoyment and its life consist in the pain 
and death of others ; and for the sake of this 



145 

enjoyment, it will inflict this pain and this 
death. 

There is a host of minor feehngs which 
keep the mind in a state of perpetual dis- 
quietude, like the troubled sea which cannot 
rest. The mind is sometimes torn and vexed 
with what may be called the dregs of other 
sinful and tormenting passions. Discontent- 
edness renders the person dissatisfied with 
every thing in his present condition ; peevish- 
ness renders him fretful and disobliged with 
the kindest efforts to please ; caprice is teased 
and provoked by the very things which, a 
few minutes before, had been wished for ; 
ill nature ferments and turns the spirits to 
acid and to gall. These feelings, like ulcers, 
destroy the peace of the mind, and keep it 
in a state of habitual and painful irritation ; 
and, to the eye of nice and correct moral 
perception, they deform the character, and 
strip it of all its loveliness, as certainly as 
ulcers do the features of the countenance. 

Of these passions, it may be observed, that 
there is an affinity between them ; they very 
naturally and almost necessarily generate 
each other. Pride and ambition almost al- 
ways produce envy and jealousy. The cause 
of disappointed expectations will be constru- 
ed into insults and injuries ; and thus anger, 
malice, resentment and revenge will be ex- 
13 



146 

cited. Under the frequent excitement and 
corrosion of these passions, the mind is dis- 
posed to discontent, peevishness and caprice; 
and thus ill-nature and harshness of temper 
become permanent features of character. 

The man who cherishes these passions is 
sure to suffer the consequence of his own 
folly. There is in his own bosom an opera- 
tive cause of vexation and torment, from 
which he cannot escape. He may change 
his circumstances in life ; he may change his 
pursuit ; he may change his friends ; but, until 
his heart is changed, by the grace of God, 
he must and will be an unhappy man. 

While these passions are tormenting the 
heart in which they exist, they are the cause 
of a nameless train of miseries to mankind. 
War is one of the most dreadful scourges 
with which the indignation of insulted Hea- 
ven has ever visited our guilty globe. Pro- 
bably ninetenths of the wars which have 
been waged have been owing to the pride, 
ambition, revenge or lawless cupidity of 
those called chiefs, rulers or sovereigns of 
the people whom they were permitted to 
afflict. Calculate the consequences of one 
single conflict. Take your station in that 
field, soon to be stained with the blood of 
thousands. See the two armies advancing to 
meet each other ; think of the art and in- 



147 

genuity with which their implements have 
been fitted for the work of slaughter and 
death ; think of the talents and miHtarj 
prowess with which all the arrangements 
have been made. View the mingled emo- 
tions of apprehensive dread and determined 
courage with which they advance : see the 
countenance at one moment brightening 
with the hope of victory ; the next overcast 
with a momentary pensiveness, from a glance 
of thought on the friends left at home. The 
signal is given, and the work of destruction 
begins. Blood, and groans, and death strike 
your ear and meet your view on every side. 
The conflict over, suppose yourself the mes- 
senger of these tidings of sorrow to the friends 
of those whose agonies and death you have 
witnessed. Go to the cottage and tell the 
mother of a helpless family that she is a 
widow, and her children are fatherless ; that 
you saw the. husband whom she loved in the 
agonies of death, and heard him, with his 
last breath, commend her and her orphan 
children to the kind protection of Heaven. 
Gauge the misery of this cottage, and then 
multiply it by all the thousands who are 
made widows and left fatherless on the same 
day. Go to the parents, whose son, the joy 
of their heart, and the hopes of their declin- 
ing years, is lifeless on the field ; tell them 



148 

that you saw him fall by the hands of a man 
whom he never had injured, and towards 
whom he cherished not one unfriendly feel- 
ing ; that he died trodden under foot by tri- 
umphant enemies, without one kind office 
or one cheering word of friendship to soothe 
his last moments. Witness the depth of sor- 
row into which these parents are plunged, 
and multiply this by all the parents who re- 
ceive the same tidings from this field of blood. 
Ask yourself, what is the cause of all these 
groans, of these agonies of death, of this in- 
calculable amount of grief in the heart of 
surviving friends? It is to gratify the bound- 
less ambition, or some other guilty passion, 
of one single man: this passion is the main- 
spring which moves this machinery of an- 
guish. Had this man possessed the mild, 
the humble, the peaceful spirit of the gospel, 
all this misery would have been prevented. 

Would you see a particular case in which 
these remarks are exemplified ? From the 
smouldering ruins of Moscow follow the re- 
treat, or rather flight, of the French army ; 
witness all the complicated sufferings which 
distinguish that flight, and you will see them 
exemplified. To the restless spirit, to the 
insatiable ambition of one man, is all that 
suffering to be ascribed. Had this man been 
contented with the empire of France, of 



149 

which he was the acknowledged sovereign, 
he might have left it as an inheritance to his 
posterity. But Alexander reigned in the 
north without doing vassalage to him. This 
preyed upon his peace, and rendered his life 
unhappy. Ambition called out this nume- 
rous army, guided its march to Moscow, and 
thus gave rise to all the miseries which fol- 
lowed, and which, perhaps, have never been 
exceeded, except when the judgment of God 
fell on that devoted city, Jerusalem. 



13* 



150 



SECTlOiN III. 

Discontentedness, peevishness — pious affections secure 
peace of mind. 

The effects of anger, in disturbing the 
peace of society are well known. During 
the violence of this passion, the operations 
of reason are suspended, or her voice is not 
heard, and her dictates are disregarded. 
The proverb is not without truth, ira brevis 
furor ^ under the paroxysm of rage, nnan 
beconnes a madman, is deprived of his un- 
derstanding, and is impelled by blind and 
furious passions. Those things are often 
done which no future regret can ever repair. 
Death is frequently the consequence of this 
dangerous excitement ; and death always 
carries anguish to the heart of surviving 
friends. The guilty homicide, if murderer 
is thought too harsh a term, may, in mo- 
ments of cool reflection, weep bitterly over 
the result of his own passion ; but this sor- 
row, however deep and sincere, will not 
restore the dead to life, nor heal the bleed- 
ing heart of sorrowing relations, though it 



151 

may, in some measure, disarm them of their 
resentment. During the fit of anger, the 
restraint of the tongue is lost ; and words, in 
a torrent, the most bitter and the most pro- 
voking, are uttered. These often produce 
deadly strife and contention, or fix in the 
heart, deep-rooted animosities and hatred ; 
feelings which the apology, suggested and 
offered in calmer moments, cannot efface ; 
but which sometimes descend as an inherit- 
ance from father to son. If malice and re- 
venge are less violent, they are not less dan- 
gerous to the peace of society. If they do 
not suspend the operations of reason, they 
employ that reason in devising means for the 
execution of their diabolical purposes. The 
paroxysms of anger are soon over; but these 
remain principles of action for days and for 
years. Anger gives iadications of the threat- 
ening storm, and thus furnishes at least a 
moment, for escape or defence ; but these 
coolly deliberate on the means of punishment 
or death, and mature their plan, a part of 
which is, to conceal their design till it is ripe 
for execution, and thus leave no time for 
escape or defence. MaHce and revenge are 
prominent features, active and permanent 
principles in the character of Satan ; this 
renders him the more dangerous to us. The 
man who lives under the influence of these 



152 

passions, not only proves, by a strong re- 
semblance, his relationship to this fallen 
spirit, but, according to his power, is equally 
dangerous to the peace and happiness of 
mankind. 

A vast amount of human happiness is de- 
stroyed by discontentedness, by peevishness, 
by sourness and harshness of temper. The 
explosions of anger, and the deep and secret 
designs of malice and revenge, are dreadful ; 
but these make up what they want in vio- 
lence by the frequency with which they 
recur. There are some who are habitual 
murmurers^ complainers, who can be pleased 
with nothing, who are dissatisfied with every 
thing. A failure to gratify their whims and 
their desires, which they have not expressed, 
and which there was no possibility of know- 
ing, is construed into designed neglect, insult 
or cruelty. Your mildness, your gentleness 
and kindness, only irritate their discontented 
spirits ; perhaps, by forcing on their observa- 
tion, from the contrast, the unwelcome pic- 
ture of their own hearts. A mere trifle will 
furnish employment for their querulous 
tongues, determined never to be idle, till 
something else occurs to take its place. 
Never satisfied themselves, they disturb the 
peace of all around them. One kind look, 
one mild and gentle expression from them 



153 

would be a phenomenon — something out of 
the ordinary course of things. Those who 
are confined within the range of their ill-na- 
tured and peevish loquacity, have great need 
of meekness, forbearance, and patience ; for 
the grievances which they are doomed to 
suffer are of no small magnitude ; grievances 
for which wealth and splendour can bring no 
alleviation. One such spirit is more than 
sufficient to keep a whole family in constant 
agitation and disquietude. Better is a dinner 
of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and 
hatred therewith. A continual dropping in a 
very rainy day^ and a contentious woman, are 
alike. It is better to dwell in a corner of the 
house top, than with a brawling woman in a 
wide house. It is better to dwell in the wil- 
derness, than with a contentious and angry 
woman. The contentions of a wife are a con- 
tinual dropping. Whether the proverbs of 
Solomon are the result of experience, or of 
observation, or of both, we cannot tell, nor 
is it material ; for the testimony of all ages 
confirms their truth. In every age, the plain 
simple meal, with kindness and love, has 
been preferred to the sumptuous feast with 
ill-nature, animosities, strife, and hatred. In 
every age, the repose of the solitary wilder- 
ness has been preferable to the wide house, 
filled and disturbed in every part with the 



154 

clamorous voice of a peevish, discontented, 
and brawling woman. In every age, the 
quietness of an obscure corner in the house- 
top has been a desirable refuge from the keen 
and ceaseless contentions of a scolding wife. 
Females have the right, and are perfectly 
justifiable in exercising this right, of revers- 
ing these proverbs, and applying them to the 
male sex. Many a wife is suffering, in secret, 
under the ill-nature, the sulky harshness of 
an unfeeling and tyrannical husband ; suffer- 
ing, too, when prudence restrains her from 
pouring her tale of woe into the bosom of 
the most confidential and intimate friend, and 
thus seeking that relief which sympathy af- 
fords. Many a husband seeks to gratify his 
contentious and cowardly spirit by the keen- 
ness of his wit, by the biting and reproachful 
sarcasm, by the sly and invidious hint, or by 
the boisterous torrent of coarse and vulgar 
abuse, directed against the wife of his bosom, 
v/hose peace and happiness he .is bound to 
promote, and whom gentleness and meekness 
restrain from attempting to retaliate the in- 
juries she suffers. If two such rugged and 
fiery spirits should be connected in matrimo- 
ny, the discord, and strife, and misery of the 
family, whose mornings are ushered in with 
the signal for contention, and whose eve- 
nings find that contention unfinished, would 



155 

give a fearful resemblance to that region from 
which all goodness, and gentleness, and meek- 
ness, and forbearance are banished ; where 
every feature of sin has reached a dreadful 
maturity ; where they are hateful^ and hating 
one another j where they are employed in 
making each other as miserable as possible ; 
where the wailings of disappointment, the 
groans of anguish and despair, is the music 
which leads on the march of eternal exist- 
ence. 

Who can look on the world, agitated and 
afflicted as it is with these restless and guilty 
passions, without breathing to heaven an ar- 
dent desire for some remedy that will restore 
peace to the mind, relieve mankind from the 
evils which they suifer from this source? 
The Bible is that remedy. No sooner does 
its divine light shine into the understanding 
— no sooner does its sacred truth impress the 
heart, than a change commences, which, in 
its progress, tends to peace and happiness. 
The proud man becomes humble ; the ambi- 
tious man becomes moderate in his expecta- 
tions and desires ; envy and jealousy wither 
and die with the root which nourishes them ; 
the avaricious man gives up his idol, and 
raises his affections to God ; anger is dis- 
placed by meekness ; malice, resentment, and 
revenge, by forbearance, the forgiveness of 



156 

injuries, brotherly kindness and charity; the 
discontented, ill-natured, peevish, murmur- 
ing, querulous spirit becomes contented, 
mild, gentle, good-natured, and benevolent. 
Destroy these evil passions and tempers, and 
you prevent all the misery and disquietude 
which they produce ; excite, in their stead, 
these friendly and devout affections, and 
those who cherish them will enjoy peace 
within, become useful members of society, 
and contribute, in no small degree, to the 
happiness of all vvilh whom they are con- 
nected. 

The truth of God has, in itself, a powerful 
tendency to produce these effects ; and the 
Spirit of God renders it effectual in the com- 
mencement and progress of this change. 
Pride is the offspring of ignorance : remove 
this ignorance, and you remove with it the 
pride to v^'hich it gives rise. The knowledge 
and belief of the truth is the only remedy 
for ignorance. The proudest man on earth 
would soon be humble, if he could see the 
sinfulness and vileness of his own heart, as it 
is represented in the word of God. Though 
he might excel thousands of others in talents, 
in learning, and in wealth, yet under the clear 
light of truth, he would see that these things 
shrink into nothing, as it regards his relation 
to God, and are no foundation for that 



157 

exalted idea of his own importance, which 
he formerly entertained. In the glass of the 
gospel he will see himself possessed of other 
features of character than those which he 
had been accustomed to contemplate, wnth 
so much self-gratulation ; features which not 
only expose him to deserved punishment, 
but also to merited shame and disgrace. 
Viewing his numerous and criminal deficien- 
cies when tried by the laws of God, the only 
correct and infallible standard, he begins to 
think soberly of himself ^ and not more highly 
than he ought to think. Ambition is fed by 
a false estimate respecting the distinctions of 
this world, of its power, its honour, and its 
fame. So very erroneous are his views, that 
his chief happiness consists in obtaining these 
distinctions- Correct this error, and his 
ambitious spirit assumes another aspect. 
Truth is not only the remedy for ignorance, 
but also the antidote of error. Let him 
learn from the pages of the Bible the real 
value of worldly distinctions ; let him learn 
from the same source the infinite importance 
of that honour which cometh from God, of the 
approbation of his Almighty Judge, and the 
objects alone on which that approbation can 
fix, and his desire for worldly distinctions 
will be graduated by the scale of truth ; he 
will labour that whether present or absent, 
14 



158 

whether in this, or in the world of spirits, 
he may be. accepted of Him, zuhose favour is 
life. Whatever be the origin and compo- 
nent parts of avarice, it is branded in Scrip- 
ture with the guilt and turpitude of idolatry ; 
it is robbing God of those affections which 
are his due, and placing them on objects 
which do not deserve them. Under the in- 
fluence of truth, the avaricious man will feel 
and acknowledge that he is not the inde- 
pendent proprietor, but the responsible stew- 
ard of his possessions. Penetrated with this 
conviction, he will feel his accountability for 
the use he makes of this wealth ; and will 
value it chiefly as the means of doing good, 
of relieving the wants of the suffering, and of 
promoting the kingdom of Christ. He will 
see that the love of money is the root of all 
evil ^ and will set his affections on things 
above, not on things on the earth. Anger is 
most effectually prevented by the considera- 
tions presented to the mind in the Gospel, 
it is less deliberative, less manageable than 
either of the preceding passions. Some- 
times, indeed, it rushes on the mind like an 
impetuous torrent, and hurries it into pur- 
poses of revenge, without time for a mo- 
ment's reflection. Generally, however, it is 
progressive, though this progress is very 
rapid. It is excited by a sense of injury 



159 

either received or apprehended. The first 
excitement spreads its own colouring over 
the provocation, and greatly magnifies the 
cause of offence. During the paroxysm, all 
thoughts but those suggested by the real or 
supposed injury are driven from the mind ; 
and it is deaf alike to the dictates of its own 
reason, and to the remonstrances of friend- 
ship. If you would guard the mind from 
the iniiuence of this painful and dangerous 
excitement, you must carefully guard against 
the very first irritating impression. Strongly 
associate wnth the sense of injury, those con- 
siderations which have a powerful tendency 
to counteract and prevent the very first feel- 
ings of anger and resentment, and to pre- 
serve the mind tranquil and composed. In 
moments of calm reflection, prepare the 
mind, by storing it with these considerations, 
for the moment of provocation, as the mo- 
ment of danger, when this aid will be neces- 
sary to preserve it in safety ; and when, 
without care and this aid, it may be hurried 
into the most violent excesses. Now it is 
obvious to remark, that this is the very me- 
thod observed, and these the very means 
em[doyed in delivering the mind from the 
influence of anger and all its modifications, 
malice, resentment and revenge. The deep 
impressions which the gospel makes on the 



160 

heart, the materials of thought with which it 
supplies the mind, have a powerful tendency 
to check the tirst risings of anger, and thus 
to preserve that tranquillity which admits of 
useful reflection. The man who sees his 
own guilt in a true light ; who feels himself 
arraigned before the bar of his Almighty 
Judge, and charged with numberless offences 
of the most provoking and aggravating na- 
ture ; who feels in his own conscience the 
justice of that sentence which condemns 
him ; who, with earnest and humble impor- 
tunity, prays to God that he would pardon 
his sins, and not punish him as he deserves ; 
this man will not, with these impressions 
deeply fixed on his heart, with these recol- 
lections in his mind, turn round and seize a 
fellow-creature by the throat, demanding 
satisfaction for some trifling offence : he will 
leave the presence of his God with a spirit 
of meekness, and some degree of that for- 
giveness of injuries, on which he himself de- 
pends for the pardon of his guilt. He will 
thus be prepared to meet the various provo- 
cations of life with a calmness of reflection, 
with a shield of meekness, with a spirit of 
forbearance and forgiveness, which, will dis- 
arm these provocations of their tendency to 
disturb his peace. He will sec, from a mo- 
ment's reflection, that some of these injuries 



161 

are imaginary, and not real ; others were not 
intended : others, though real, are but slight, 
and cannot atFect his happiness by any means 
as much as his own irritation would certainly 
do ; others which were intended, and which 
materially affect his happiness, as he hopes 
to be forgiven of God, he will /rom the heart 
forgive^ and commit himself to him whojudgeth 
righteously. That discontentedness, murmur- 
ing, peevishness, &;c. which destroy so much 
of the peace and comfort of mankind, are 
weakened and finally swept away by the 
softening and improving influence of the 
gospel. The man who is discontented with 
his present condition, vents his ill nature on 
the friends who kindly try to please him, 
murmurs and frets under the slightest incon- 
venience to which he is subjected, will be 
cured of this unhappy spirit by an impressive 
view of his guilt and unworthiness, by per- 
ceiving how little he deserves from the hand 
of God or man ; by the conviction that in- 
stead of the favours with which he is sur- 
rounded, and the kindness bestowed on him, 
he deserves the reproach and neglect of men, 
and the heavy displeasure of God. When 
the gospel is correctly understood and cor- 
dially received, it improves the heart, and 
elevates the mind al30ve the littleness of 
these repinings and complaints. 
14* 



162 

The gospel prohibits, in the strongest 
terms, the exercise of these criminal passions ; 
and enforces, with earnestness, the cultiva- 
tion of pious, social, and devout affection. 
From a great number of passages to this ef- 
fect, the following are offered : — " Pride and 
arrogance do I hate. Woe to the crown of 
pride. Love not the world, neither the things 
that are in the world. If any man love the 
world, the love of the Father is not in him ; 
for all that is in the world, the lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, 
is not of the Father. Wherefore laying aside 
all malice, and all envies. Let us not be 
desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, 
envying one another. Let all bitterness and 
wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil 
speaking be put away from you, with all ma- 
lice. And be ye kind one to another, tender- 
hearted, forgiving one another, even as God 
for Christ's sake hath forgiven you. Be 
kindly affectioned one to another, with bro- 
therly love. But now ye also put off all 
these; anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy 
communication out of your mouth. Put 
on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and 
beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, hum- 
bleness of mind, meekness, long suffering; 
forbearing one another, and forgiving one 
another, if any man have a quarrel against 



163 

any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also 
do ye. And above all these things put on 
charity, which is the bond of perfectness. 
Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves; but 
rather give place unto wrath. See that none 
render evil for evil unto any man. Be not 
overcome of evil, but overcome evil with 
good. Charity suffereth long and is kind ; 
charity envieth not: charity vaunteth not 
itself, is not puffed up, is not easily provoked ; 
beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth 
all things, endureth all things." — These, and 
such as these, are the precepts and doctrines, 
which, being received and obeyed by faith, 
strike their impression on the heart and form 
the moral character. 

The structure of the human mind is a 
grand display of the wisdom of God ; the 
gospel is also the wisdom of God ; the one 
is, therefore, adapted to the other. Tt has 
already been stated that our passions and af- 
fections can be controlled only by our per- 
ceptions, thoughts, and conclusions. No man 
can awaken in his bosom the passion of an- 
ger, as he can move his hand, by a simple 
act of volition. He cannot feel resentment 
towards an object, which, in his apprehen- 
sion, is perfectly harmless. Some degree of 
injury, either received or expected, is neces- 
sary to excite this feeling. Fear cannot be 



1G4 

roused without apprehension of clanger. The 
affection of love can never be called into ex- 
ercise but by the view of something amiable, 
the contemplation of which will give plea- 
sure, and the possession of which will give 
happiness. To this constitutional trait of 
the human mind, the gospel is wisely adapt- 
ed. While it prohibits the exercise of these 
sinful passions, it pours a flood of light on the 
objects which excite them ; it shows these 
objects in their comparative littleness, and 
their insufliciency to afford the happiness ex- 
pected from them ; and thus, by divesting 
them of those properties which they were 
supposed to possess, the passions arc weak- 
ened which they had excited. Diminish the 
the cause, and you diminish the effect pro- 
duced by that cause. While it requires us 
to cherish every devout and social affection, 
it presents to our view objects most worthy 
of these affections. If it requires us to love 
God supremely, it exhibits the infinite good- 
ness of God as the object of this love. If it 
requires us to be thankful, it exhibits the un- 
speakable gift, it confers the unmerited fa- 
vour, as the cause of this thankfulness. If it 
requires us to hope, it sets before us the 
atonement of a divine Saviour's death as the 
ground of this hope. 

God be thanked, says Paul to the Ronians, 



165 

that ye have obeyed from the heart that form 
of doctrine which was delivered you. Some 
commentators understand him as represent- 
ing the doctrines of the gospel as a mould, 
into which the mind is cast, and from which 
it receives its impressions ; as melted metal, 
poured into a mould, receives all the impres- 
sions of that mould. The more closely the 
mind comes in contact with the gospel, the 
more deep and lasting will be its impressions. 
The more accurate and extensive our know- 
ledge of the gospel becomes, and the more 
cordially we receive and obey it, the less 
will we be conformed to this world, and the 
more will we be transformed by the renewing 
of our mind ; the more will this world be 
crucified to us, and we to the world ; the 
more w^ill we die unto sin, and live unto 
God ; the more will we be renewed and im- 
proved in the spirit of our mind. If the 
gospel does not instantaneously, yet it does 
gradually and effectually detach our affec- 
tions from this world, and raise them to God, 
to the Saviour, and to things spiritual and 
divine. The farther the Christian advances 
under the guidance and power of the gospel, 
the more peace and happiness does he enjoy 
in his own heart ; the more kind and affec- 
tionate does he become to his friends, and 
those who are immediately connected with 



166 

him ; the more useful does he become to (he 
church and to the world. 

The Christian has peace in his own bosom. 
Compare the man who is proud in spirit^ 
with the man who has put on humbleness of 
mind, and you cannot but see the difference. 
Pride requires for its nourishment the in- 
cense of adulation continually rising from its 
altar ; with this nourishment it encreases, and 
requires still more of this incense for its in- 
dulgence. Denied of this, it corrodes the 
bosom with suspicion, dissatisfaction, and 
jealousy ; and finally turns to pure misan- 
thropy. Its aspect is repulsive to all men; 
all find a secret delight in witnessing its mor- 
tification, chagrin and disappointment. Hu- 
mility, on the other hand, evangelical humil- 
ity, is modest and conciliating. Advancing 
no claims for the notice and applause of this 
world, it is perfectly safe from the disquie- 
tude of disappointment and chagrin. Where- 
ever it appears it proclaims peace within, 
and good will to men. Seeking and valuing 
chiefly the approbation of God, this can be 
enjoyed in retirement, remote from the strife 
and tumult of the world. With this appro- 
bation it increases ; and the more it increases 
the more independent does it become of the 
admiration of this world. If there is peace 
on earth, it will be found in retirement, in 
the bosom that is meek and lozoly. 



167 

Where shall we tind a suitable contrast be- 
tween the spirit of restless ambition, and that 
moderatio7i^ respecting the distinctions of this 
world, which characterises every true Chris- 
tian ? Take Caesar, at the moment when he 
had formed the resolution to pass the Rubi- 
con : — Rather take an example of more re- 
cent date, over which antiquity has thrown 
less obscurity; take the late emperor of 
France, at the moment when the design of 
invading Russia is formed. His calculations 
are made ; his diagrams are finished ; his 
generals are named; his places of depot are 
appointed ; the route of his army is pre- 
scribed ; the first order is issued, and the first 
step is taken in execution of this design. At 
this moment, so eventful in his life, with 
what conflicting passions must not his mind 
have been agitated and torn ? At one mo- 
ment he anticipates the glory of dictating 
terms of peace to Alexander, in the metro- 
polis of his own empire; m^d then, as the 
consequence of this victory, sees, what he 
had not yet seen, England trembling at his 
triumphant progress ; and, perhaps, casting 
his eye across the Atlantic, and adorning his 
brow with a few laurels from this country. 
But although a tide of almost uninterrupted 
success had attended his movements, yet no 
man knew better than he did the perils and 



168 

hazards of war; he could not drive from his 
mind the possibility of a reverse ; nor could 
he well avoid anticipating sonne of the con- 
sequences of this reverse; the glory already 
attained might be clouded ; the throne on 
which he is seated might be shaken ; the sta- 
tion which he now fills might be lost. Thus, 
although not one ray of prophetic light shone 
on the prospect before him, though he could 
not foresee that train of events which are now 
historical facts, yet he could not prevent these 
tremendous uncertainties, those painful per- 
adventures, from commingling with his more 
pleasing anticipations, and disturbing his 
peace. The blood which is to tlow, the 
groans to be uttered, the pangs and tortures 
of death to be felt, the grief and anguish of 
surviving friends, gave him no uneasy sensa- 
tion : for ambition is deaf and blind to these 
things. With this man contrast our beloved 
Washington, at the moment when he enters 
the hall of congress, with the view of laying 
on their table the commission previously re- 
ceived from them. The toils, and labours, 
the perils of war are past. His mihtary 
prowess had been admired, even by his ene- 
mies ; but this is the moment when his cha- 
racter appears in all its dignity, surrounded 
with a glory which Alexander, which Cagsar, 
which Bonaparte never attained. The in- 



1G9 

dependence of his country is acknowledged. 
There appears in his view a rising and ex- 
panding empire, the patroness of hberty, and 
the asylunfi for the distressed and the perse- 
cuted of all nations. Every feature of his 
countenance tells the noble and generous 
feelings of his heart. The recollection of 
past scenes, of the companions who fell by 
his side, of the sufferings he witnessed, 
awakens a sympathy which imparts a softness 
and tenderness to these manly feelings, and 
renders them still more interesting. Those 
hopes which animated and supported him 
through the hazards of the Revolution, are 
now realised ; his peace of mind is undis- 
turbed ; his joy is pure and sublime. Bona- 
parte was a man of boundless ambition : 
Washington was a man of genuine, of tried 
patriotism ; and what is infinitely more, theie 
is reason to hope, he was a man of sincere 
piety. The design of this contrast is not in- 
vidious, but to enforce the divine precept ; 
Let your moderation be known to all men. He 
who cherishes a spirit of ambition is sharp- 
ening a thorn to pierce his own heart. 

The Christian, whose heart is thoroughly 
reformed, " neither envies nor grieves at the 
good of his neighbour;" the excellence and 
the happiness of others no longer subject him 
to the painful feelings of malignity and hatred 
15 



170 

towards them. Their happiness increases 
his own ; he rejoices with those who do rejoice. 
His' benevolence, his Christian charity, lead 
him to desire and pray for the happiness of 
all men ; when his prayer is answered he is 
thankful not envious^ 

How calm and peaceful is the mind, guard- 
ed from the painful agitations of anger, wrath, 
malice, resentment and revenge, by that 
meekness, forbearance and forgiveness, which 
are features of every Christian character? 
The moment of provocation is the moment 
when those affections are required and called 
into exercise, and when they appear in their 
most amiable and attractive light. The 
greater the provocation, the more it would 
justify, in the world's estimation, the feelings 
of resentment, the more glorious is the tri- 
umph of the Christian in maintaining a sweet 
serenity and peace of mind. The man of 
wrathful spirit takes the work of vengeance 
into his own hands, and, driven by blind and 
furious passion, inflicts the punishment which 
resentment suggests. When this excitement 
has subsided, when he reviews, in cooler 
moments, what is past, often will he find that 
this one rash act will furnish reflections more 
than sufiicient to embitter his future life. 
The Christian, through the exercise of meek- 
ness and forbearance, prevents the passion 



171 

from rising ; and, in the true spirit of his 
Master, forgives the injury received. Being 
reviled, he blesses ; bei?ig defamed, he entreats^ 
and prays for those ivho despitefully use him. 
This spirit and this conduct will not pursue 
and torment him, in his moments of retire- 
ment, with bitter reflections, with painful 
regret, with remorse of conscience ; it will 
spread through his soul, and over his life, 
the blessings of peace ; even the peace of 
God which passeth all understanding. 

There are some who, though sufficiently 
guarded against the more violent passions, 
are yet subject to constant uneasiness and 
disquietude from the ordinary occurrences 
of every day. If all the details of domestic 
arrangements are not performed with mathe- 
matical exactness ; if the furniture is not rub- 
bed in a particular way ; if the fuel is not 
laid on the fire according to a precise rule — 
a rule too, known only to themselves ; if one 
corner of the table-cloth is but an eighth of 
an inch lower than the other, &c. &c. they 
complain, they are vexed, they are unhappy. 
Now, for this fretful, dissatisfied temper, the 
gospel offers a sovereign remedy. As the 
Christian advances in the divine life he is 
delivered from this troop oUittle foxes, which 
spoil the vines of their tender grapes ; from 
that habitual impatience with trifles, which. 



172 

though it does not expose him to reproach 
from the world or censure from the church, 
yet unfits him for devotion, and retards his 
progress in hohness. Not that the Christian 
is less observant, or less attentive to neatness 
and order in his arrangements than others, 
but he cannot sacrifice his peace of mind on 
account of such minute irregularities ; he has 
risen above that region in the moral atmo- 
sphere where such things produce their an- 
noyance. The most effectual way to deliver 
the mind from the vexation of trifling cares 
is to bring it under the influence of those 
which are truly important. These things, 
compared with the more weighty concerns 
even of this world, deserve but little atten- 
tion ; and in presence uf the grand objects 
of eternity, with which the Christian's mind 
is deeply impressed, and from which he de- 
rives his chief happiness, they lose their 
power to annoy. If your friends were aiding 
your escape from a house on fire, you would 
not complain, provided your escape and your 
safety were secured, though they did not 
observe all the little punctilios of politeness 
in affording that aid. In the absence of the 
sun, the stars are visible ; but no sooner does 
he appear than they shrink from observation, 
and are seen no more. The Christian is 
doing a great work^ he cannot come down 



173 

to these minute enquiries ; he is running a 
race for a prize of infinite value, he cannot 
stop to complain of the slight inequalities of 
the path. 

It is therefore, a blessing to any man to 
be turned from his iniquity \ to be delivered 
from those violent and sinful passions which 
fill his bosom with anxiety and tumult ; and 
to have produced in their stead, those pious 
affections, those friendly and social feehngs 
which bring with them peace and joy to his 
own breast. At the same time, while har- 
mony reigns in his own mind, having become 
a new creature^ having put on Christy he is 
disposed to be more kind and affectionate to 
his friends, and more useful to the church, 
to society, and to the world. The transform- 
ation of a sinful character into the meek- 
ness and lowliness of the Saviour's image is 
a two-fold blessing to society. It is turning 
a source of disquietude and misery, into a 
source of peace and happiness ; a fountain 
of bitter, poisonous and dangerous water, 
into a salutary, healthful and refreshing 
stream ; it is changing an enemy into a kind 
and valuable friend. This truth was never 
more clearly nor more forcibly exemplified 
than in the case of Saul of Tarsus. He was 
one of the most fearful enemies the infant 
church had to dread. His very name was a 
15* 



174 

terror to the disciples ; for he breathed out 
threatening and slaughter against them. 
Merely to have been delivered from such an 
enemy, would have been a great blessing: 
but to have this same enemy, with all his 
mighty powers of mind, with all his learning, 
with all his characteristic ardour and zeal, 
turned into a decided and active friend ; into 
one of the most intrepid advocates, one of 
the most laborious, persevering atid success- 
ful preachers the church ever had, was a 
blessing still greater, and called for still more 
devout and thankful acknowledgments. It 
is not strange, therefore, that when the dis- 
ciples heard that he was now preaching the 
faith lohich once he destroyed^ that they glo- 
rified God in him. This in a greater or less 
degree, is the etlect of every instance of real 
conversion by the word and the spirit of 
God. 

Look at the proud man, whose brow is 
continually arched with arrogance, whose 
step and movement are indications of the 
haughty spirit that reigns within ; would you 
expect this man to be a tender and affection- 
ate husband, or father, or brother? Would 
you not rather expect that in the bosom of 
his family, removed from the restraint of 
public observation, that he will be distant, 
imfeeling and morose; impatient if his wants 



175 

are not attended to before they are known ; 
expecting every member of his family to 
gratify his wishes without the satisfaction of 
knowing that he was pleased with their at- 
tention? Would you expect him to perform 
those offices of kindness, little, indeed, when 
separately considered, but returning so fre- 
quently as to make up a large amount of 
domestic happiness ? Would you expect to 
see him seeking out the poor, the suffering 
and distressed, and ministering to their com- 
fort and relief? No : the incongruity of his 
spirit to these offices of kindness, utterly 
forbids the expectation. To perform these 
offices; to occupy this province of usefulness, 
you naturally look to the man who is clothed 
with humility. You as naturally expect that 
this lowliness of mind is associated with that 
benevolence and meekness, with that gentle- 
ness and charity which are features of the 
same character; and that the man possessing 
this spirit will sweeten the scenes of domestic 
life with his good will, his kindness and con- 
descension, and that he will take pleasure in 
searching out and relieving the poor and 
the afflicted, as you expect the proud man to 
be a petty, unfeeling tyrant at home, and to 
leave the poor and distressed in their unpitied 
suffering. Think of all the relations of life 
and of society ; of father, of husband, of bro- 



176 

ther, of friend, of neighbour, of teacher, of 
magistrate, of legislator, of judge, of chief 
ruler ; and is it not more than probable, that 
if in other respects they are equal, in talents, 
in learning, in wealth, every human being, 
capable of perceiving the difference, would 
prefer the man of sincere humility to the 
proud man in either of these relations ? 

Would you see the difference exemplified, 
as it regards the happiness of mankind, be- 
tween the spirit of ambition, and those desires 
for worldly distinctions which are graduated 
by the scale of truth ? Permit us, for this 
purpose, again to bring before you, those two 
men, of all others the most distinguished on 
the theatre of modern times — Bonaparte 
and Washington. There is reason to believe 
that Bonaparte, when he commenced his 
public career, had no intention of reaching 
the throne of France. All that he then hoped 
to attain, in all probability, was the reputation 
of an accomplished general. But, as he ad- 
vanced, success fed and increased his am- 
bition, till at length it prompted him to seize 
the sceptre, which he perceived was held by 
a feeble and unsteady hand. Reaching this 
elevated theatre, his ambition receives a new 
and powerful impulse from beholding the 
new rivals and competitors, with whom he 
is surrounded, in the neighbouring sovereigns 



177 

of F]urope. These must be equalled, then 
excelled, and then humbled. The generals 
who were once his rivals are now his subor- 
dinate agents. His fame and his dominion 
are now to be extended. For this purpose 
the lives of hundreds and thousands were 
sacrificed. He alleged, it is true, other rea- 
sons for his measures ; his professed object 
was to give freedom to Europe ; but the mil- 
lions who were subjugated to his power felt 
the iron hand of despotism. The world and 
posterity will testify that the incalculable 
miseries which marked his progress were 
chiefly if not solely to gratify his boundless 
ambition. Washington was called, by the 
voice of his country, to one of the most diffi- 
cult, arduous and important stations to which 
it was possible for that country to call him. 
After spending successive years of toil and 
privation and peril in that station, he neither 
asked nor would receive the smallest com- 
pensation for his services. He was instru- 
mental in obtaining for his country the 
blessings of civil and religious liberty; the 
invaluable inheritance of every American : 
and may kind Providence secure this inherit- 
ance to our posterity till the last moment of 
time ! This object being accomplished, he 
leaves the public theatre on which he had 
acted so conspicuous a part, and returns to 



178 

his beloved retirement, there to enjoy the 
only reward which his heart desired, the 
blessings of peace with his fellow-citizens. 
Which of these was the most useful to man- 
kind ? The one convulsed all Europe, and 
filled whole empires with tumult, with deso- 
lation, with mourning, with sorrow, with 
death : the other, at the call of his country 
cheerfully shared in the fatigues and the 
hazards of war ; and in connection with his 
illustrious companions, in the senate and in 
the field, procured for his beloved country 
independence and freedom — blessings which 
we to this hour enjoy. The difference is 
too striking to escape observation, and the 
conclusion too obvious to admit the least 
doubt. 



179 



SECTION IV. 

Meekness, forbearance, kindness, &c. promote human 
happiness. 

We speak of the man who is a Christian, 
not merely by assuming the name, and mak- 
ing the profession, but who is such in real- 
ity ; whose character is forming by the word 
and spirit of God, to greater and greater 
degrees of resemblance to the character of 
Christ. Surround this man with the provo- 
cations and trials which excite the anger, 
resentment, impatience, fretfulness, &;c. of 
others ; and we maintain that he will contri- 
bute to the peace and happiness of society in 
a much greater degree, in consequence of 
possessing this character, than others, in 
similar circumstances, would do. What is 
the most plausible reason assigned for re- 
senting an insult and avenging an injury? It 
is to prevent a repetition of the offence. If 
you tamely submit, it is alleged, you draw on 
yourself the reproach of cowardice ; you in- 
vite aggression by declaring that you may be 
insulted with impuity. Show yourself a man 



180 

of spirit; resent the injuries jou receive, and 
they will not be repeated. This is the way, 
this is the language, and this is the spirit of 
the world. The Bible teaches a different 
method, holds a different language, and in- 
fuses into the Christian a different spirit. 
The question is, which of them is most con- 
ducive to the happiness of man. Has cow- 
ardice a more natural connection with 
meekness, forbearance and the forgiveness of 
injuries than it has with those passions which 
inflict these injuries? If courage be, as some 
suppose it, in part at least, a natural quality, 
or constitutional trait of character, then, the 
want of it is not criminal, any more than the 
want of bodily strength. Has the Christian 
no other way of manifesting his magnanimity 
than by the indulgence of anger, malice and 
resentment, and by inflicting punishment on 
those who displease him? Does it not display 
more true courage and fortitude to subdue 
these turbulent passions, and maintain meek- 
ness and tranquillity of mind, under those 
provocations, which, in the opinion of the 
world, will justify resentment and revenge? 
Is it not a much more decisive proof of pu- 
sillanimity and cowardice to insult a man 
when it is known that he, by his religious 
principle, is restrained from resistance, than 
it is, from the heart to forgive the insult ? 



181 

It is the mark of a mean pitiful soul to vent 
its wrath on the unresisting ; but it is a noble 
achievement, a mark of real fortitude, to con- 
quer those passions which would prompt to 
retaliation. In the opinion of the world it 
is much more difficult to exercise forbearance, 
and to forgive an injury, than it is to in- 
dulge resentment and to seek revenge. Ac- 
cording to this opinion there is more magna- 
nimity displayed in forgiving an injury, than 
in revenging it. He that is slow to anger, is 
better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his 
spirit, than he that taketh a city. We recom- 
mend on this subject, an excellent sermon of 
Dr. Witherspoon on Christian Magnanimity. 
But let us suppose that you act on the 
principles of the world ; when you are re- 
viled, that you revile again ; when you are 
abused, that you return the abuse with inte- 
rest ; when threatened, with a louder and 
more angry tone, you threaten in return \ 
with a spirit corresponding with your words, 
you curse those, who curse you ; that to the 
utmost of your power you exert yourself to 
overcome evil with evil, to injure those who 
injure you, whether it be in character, in 
property or in person. Now, it is possible, 
that your language, in this terrible conflict 
may be so much more abusive, reproachful, 
bitter, and wounding to the feehngs, than 
16 



182 

that of your antagonist ; and that your resent- 
ment and your strength may be so much 
greater than his, that you inflict a greater in- 
jury on him than he can on you ; that he may 
be induced, from the principle of mere self- 
ishness, to desist, and not to attack you again. 
But unless you surpass him in your reviling, 
your threatening, your cursing, your rage, and 
the punishment you inflict ; this purpose will 
not be answered ; he will be just as likely to 
return on you again, as he will on any other 
person ; and indeed more so : for he will be 
more gratified with his triumph over one 
who makes some resistance, than over one 
who makes none ; this will be a more de- 
cisive proof of his superiority in those 
qualities on account of which he values him- 
self. Unless therefore, you can make him 
afraid ofyour abuse, your resentment andyour 
power, you do not secure your safety from 
future insults. And if you should excite his 
fear, and thus secure your own safety, you 
leave him with all his malevolence to attack 
others who may not possess your talents for 
reviling and for injury. Your resentment 
has not the slightest tendency to extinguish 
his passions, but rather to increase them. 
He will, therefore, most probably seek to 
gratify that revenge which your opposition 
has excited on those who cannot make the 
ame resistance. 



183 

Besides ; the very first anger that flashes 
from your eye, the first resentful word you 
utter, will increase his anger, and his lan- 
guage will be more provoking ; this will in- 
crease, and justify your resentment on the 
same principle on which the first feeling of 
this nature is justified. As coals are to burn- 
ing coals, and wood to fire ; so is a contentious 
man to kindle strife : Grievous words stir up 
anger : A wrathful man stirreth up strife. 
One word brings on another ; and each one 
more bitter, more provoking than the pre- 
ceding. Thus passion increases, till two 
rational beings are turned into perfect furies. 
Behold, how great a matter a little fire kin- 
dleth ! How small was the beginning of this 
tremendous conflict of angry and revengeful 
passions ! And is it possible this is the way, 
and this the spirit best calculated to promote 
the happiness of man ? Is it possible that a 
Christian, under any circumstances, can act 
this part, and cherish these feelings? As 
soon might we suppose that the innocent 
dove should dart on its prey with all the 
unfeehng rapine of the eagle or the hawk ; 
that the meek and harmless lamb should 
roam through the forest with the rage and 
fierceness of the hungry lion or the tiger. 

Let us suppose, then, that you possess the 
Christian character ; and that you are con- 



184 

scientiously governed by the principles of 
the Bible. You will i\\en^ follow peace with 
all men. If it be possible^ as much as lieth in 
you, you will live peaceably with all men ; 
you will follow after the things which make 
for peace ; you will so bridle the tongue as 
not to offend in word. You will not, with 
expresssions, indeed, of regret, but with se- 
cret pleasure, take up and circulate a re- 
proach against your neighbour, merely be- 
cause you can give the author from whom 
you received it. No person who undertakes 
the fruitless task of tracing back to its author, 
some vague, though scandalous report, will 
find you a link in the chain, along which it 
has been communicated. You will be no 
tale-bearer : you will not cherish that censo- 
rious spirit which would lead you to back- 
bitings, whisperings, against those, whom de- 
cency and a regard to public opinion re- 
strain you from defaming more openly. No 
secret ill-will, envy, or jealousy, will per- 
mit you to be gratified in hearing from others 
that calumny and detraction of your neigh- 
bour's character, which motives of selfish 
policy prevent you from uttering yourself. 
Your piety will be of that sound, scriptural 
character which will give no just cause of 
offence to any human being. Your zeal 
will be guarded by prudence, by that wisdom 



185 

that Cometh down from above. Your pri- 
vate devotion will be without any thing, 
intended and understood by others, as a sig- 
nal to give information of its performance. 
When called to act before others, you will 
not display that vain ostentation which is 
gratified with public observation. if you 
give reproof, it will not be with that harsh 
and unfeeling language, better calculated to 
irritate than to soften and reform ; but with 
that mildness and gentleness which will give 
weight and even keenness to the reproof. 
If you give advice on any subject, it will not 
be with a dogmatising, dictating spirit, but 
with that kindness and affection which will 
be calculated to gain admittance to the 
heart, and to persuade. Cherishing this 
spirit, and pursuing this deportment, those 
who might be disposed to calumniate or in- 
jure you, shall 7iot find any occasion against 
you^ except^ like Daniel, they find it against 
you concerning the law ofi your God. Your 
example may reproach and condemn those 
who are determined to live in sin ; your re- 
proof, however wisely and tenderly given, 
may irritate those who will not reform. To 
silence, if possible, the voice of an accusing 
conscience, and to justify their perseverance 
in sin, they may say all manner of evil 
against you ; they may revile you for right- 
16^ 



186 

eousness' sake ; but they cannot, in our high- 
ly favoured country, persecute you on ac- 
count of religion ; that is, as we understand 
it, they cannot prosecute you at the civil 
law. But however pious and friendly may 
be your disposition, however harmless may 
be your life, we will not affirm that you will 
not, on other accounts than religion, meet 
with trials, and provocation, and injuries 
from the sinful passions of men. We do 
think, however, that such a life will secure 
you, in a great measure, from these trials 
and provocations. In many cases, he who 
is considered the aggressor, has some cause 
for his anger ; we do not mean a justifiable 
one; for nothing can justify these criminal 
passions ; but some unguarded word or ac- 
tion, which might have been avoided, with- 
out sacrificing one religious feeling, or vio- 
lating one obligation ; something which dis- 
turbs and irritates a mind uninfluenced by 
the principles of the gospel. God may 
permit these trials to surround you, for the 
purpose of calling into exercise, and strength- 
ening some of the most amiable virtues of 
the Christian character. It is only under 
provocation, that meekness and forbearance 
can be exercised ; only when an injury is 
received, that the spirit of forgiveness can 
exert its heavenly influence. Such are the 



187 

views which the Bible gives on this subject. 
My brethren^ says the Apostle James, count 
it all joy when ye fallinto divers temptations : 
and again ; blessed is the man that endureth 
temptation. The word temptation^ includes 
the trials to which we refer. They are di- 
vers^ that they may furnish occasion for the 
exercise of every principle of the Christian 
character; they are to be endured^ that is, 
their tendency to excite any degree of crimi- 
nal passion, or to lead from the path of duty, 
must be resisted and overcome by those very 
principles, which they are intended to call 
into exercise and strengthen. When the 
presence of suffering is felt, {hen ^ patience is 
to have her perfect work ^ when provocation 
is offered, then, meekness and forbearance 
are called for; when an injury is received, 
then, forgiveness is to be exercised. It is a 
cause of blessedness and joy, when these 
trials, without leading to sin, are the means 
of advancing towards perfection these pious 
and amiable dispositions of the heart. It is 
in connection with this very subject, that the 
apostle gives those wise and salutary ex- 
hortations. — Let every man be slow to speak, 
slow to wrath. Wherefore lay apart all 
flthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and 
receive with meekness the ingrafted word, 
which is able to save your souls. In the 



188 

midst of these revilings, and calumnies, and 
injuries, from a wicked world, you will have 
this very great advantage ; the consciousness 
of innocence for your support. With con- 
fidence you can commit yourself to Him who 
judgeth righteously, and feel the assurance 
that in his sight, you are not culpable. You 
need not adopt the finesse of displaying your 
anger and resentment, as proof that you are 
unjustly assailed ; for this, at best, is but 
equivocal proof of the fact. When provo- 
cation is given, honestly obey the principles 
of the Bible, be a doer of the word ^ and we 
maintain, that you will not only preserve the 
peace of your own mind, but you will very 
much contribute (o the happiness of society. 
We maintain this point on the authority of 
the Bible itself; and, if we mistake not, it 
is confirmed by experience and observation. 
We have never known an instance, in which 
the precepts of the Bible were faithfully ex- 
emplified, that was not followed by the hap- 
piest consequences. All those contentions, 
which often leave animosities seated in the 
hearts of two numerous parties, and not un- 
frequently lead to blood and to murder, 
commence with but a slight degree of anger, 
which, if proper measures were pursued, 
would be quite manageable. Words are 
generally the first indication of the rising 



189 

passion within, with these the first onset is 
made. Then is the very time to try the 
utiHty and power of the precepts of the Bi- 
ble, and test the truth of its declarations. A 
soft answer turneth away wrath, is one of 
these declarations. If you have done wrong, 
have given any cause of offence, make a 
suitable apology ; and if your aggressor be a 
man of generous spirit, this will satisfy him. 
If you are conscious of innocence, shielded 
with meekness, forbear to use language in- 
tended or calculated to irritate and provoke ; 
let your reply be mild and conciliating. No 
fuel being furnished to the flame, it will most 
probably subside. Perceiving no signs of 
anger or resentment, he will pause, his 
thoughts will take a different direction, and 
his wrath will be turned away. If, how- 
ever, it should be otherwise, if his own 
words should increase his anger; if, having 
uttered one provoking word, he should think 
another still more abusive necessary to jus- 
tify the first ; if he should exhaust the whole 
vocabulary of vituperation and cursing; and 
if he still meets with nothing but mildness, 
he will see that he is wasting his wrath for 
no purpose ; he will be disappointed in per- 
ceiving that you are not irritated, that you 
do not feel his attack, will see that he is ex- 
posing himself, and shame will suppress his 



190 

resentment. A soft tongue breaketh the bone. 
This will be making a fair experiment on the 
principles of the Bible; and we venture to 
affirm, that every experiment of this kind 
will prove the powerful tendency of these 
principles to preserve the peace and pro- 
mote the happiness of society. This anger, 
in the very commencement, will most pro- 
bably be suppressed by your mildness ; but 
if, without resistance from you, it should rage 
on till it exhausts itself, he will much sooner 
feel disposed to be reconciled to you ; and 
if his nature does not bear the stamp of the 
most extreme baseness, such will be his feel- 
ings of disappointment and shame, that he 
will be less likely to attack you a second 
time, than if you had felt and manifested a 
spirit of resentment. 

Again ; If thine enemy hunger, feed himj 
if he thirst, give him drink ^ for in so doing 
thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head : Be 
not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with 
good. This implies more than mere forbear- 
ance and mildness ; it requires the exercise 
of benevolence, doing good to him who has 
injured, or who intends to injure you. Love 
your enemies — The love of complacency you 
cannot cherish towards any man whose cha- 
racter, in your opinion, is not worthy of it; 
but the love of benevolence you can, and 



191 

ought to feel towards all men, even your bit- 
terest enemy. If he is in distress or afflic- 
tion, comfort and relieve him, and cheerfully 
embrace every opportunity of doing him 
good ; not merely once or twice, but as often 
as the opportunity may offer. This active 
benevolence, this persevering kindness, will 
subdue his opposition, will soften his heart, 
and awaken friendly feelings towards you. 
Though he should not acknowledge it, yet, 
if you can make h\m feel that you have done 
him good, conscious that he does not deserve 
it, this very feeling will destroy his enmity, 
as certainly as metal will melt in the midst 
of burning coals. Until this feeling is pro- 
duced in the heart of your enemy, the object 
is not accomplished ; hence you must not 
grozo weary in well doing ; in the midst of 
discouragements you must persevere in kind- 
ness. It is not sufficient merely to cast the 
metal into the fire — the degree of heat, and 
the length of time, must be sufficient to an- 
swer the purpose. One kind of metal will 
melt with a less degree of heat, and in a 
shorter time than another. If your kindness 
fails to soften your enemy and change him 
into a friend, it is for want of perseverance, 
or for want of catching the occasion most 
favourable to success. There are different 
degrees of enmity; one degree will be over- 



192 

come by that kindness which will produce 
but Httle effect on another. Some hearts 
are more easily touched with kindness than 
others. Under certain circumstances, and 
after a certain train of thought, your enemy 
may spurn your kindness ; but let the circum- 
stances in which he is placed and the state 
of his mind be different, and the effect will 
be different. Therefore, do not despair; in 
due season you shall reap, if you faint not. 
You shall, sooner or later, see your enemy 
overcome by your goodness, changed into a 
friend, and willing to acknowledge your 
kindness. If the metal does not melt in a 
given time, let it remain still longer; if one 
degree of heat is insufficient, increase that 
degree, and the purpose will be answered. 
Overcome evil with good : this exhortation 
surely does not require you to do what is 
impossible, but what is practicable by perse- 
vering in the use of those means calculated 
to answer the purpose. If seven instances 
of kindness are not successful, you are not 
to doubt the truth of the gospel, and give up 
the task as entirely hopeless ; you are to try 
the force of seventy times seven j each in- 
stance rendered with more cordiality, if pos- 
sible, than the preceding. Cherish the firm 
conviction that in due time the purpose will 
be accomplished, that the Lord shall reward 



193 

you with success ; your enemy will, at length, 
feel and acknowledge that you have done 
him good ; and it is under the influence of 
this feeling that his enmity begins to melt, 
and that friendly dispositions towards you 
arise in his heart. Thus you will gain a bro- 
ther, perhaps, save a soul from death, and 
prevent a multitude of sins, preserve peace 
and harmony when discord and strife would 
have taken place, and probably have been 
transmitted to future generations. 

You are not to allege, as an excuse for 
your neglect or want of perseverance, that 
the duty is difficult. You are not to sit in 
judgment on the wisdom and propriety of 
the divine precepts, cast off the authority of 
your moral governor, and assume the right of 
prescribing for yourself that service which 
he ought to accept. If you claim this right 
you must grant it to others, and thus it will 
be made to cover the neglect of every duty. 
You may allege that it is difficult to forgive 
and do good to an enemy who has injured 
you ; that it is much easier to resent and re- 
tahate. Another may allege with equal 
truth, that prayer, with the spirit andzoith the 
understandings is very difficult to him ; ano- 
ther, that the proper observance of the Sab- 
bath is extremely irksome to him : will this 
be a sufficient excuse for the neglect of these 
17 



194 

important duties? No more in either of 
these cases than it will in your own. Would 
you extend the same right to the citizens of 
the state? Your neighbour is indolent, he 
cannot labour, to beg he is ashamed^ he finds 
it difficult to be honest and to abstain from 
stealing your property. Will you excuse 
him on this ground? If not, excuse not 
yourself by the same reason for neglecting a 
duty on which the peace and happiness of 
society so much depend. In the case of 
your neighbour, this excuse would be the 
confession of his own guilt, and proof that he 
was not a good citizen. So will it be in 
your own case: a confession that your faith 
in the word of God is weak, and that you 
possess but little of the spirit of your Divine 
Saviour, whom you profess to love, and 
whose example you have publicly and so- 
lemnly pledged yourself to imitate. If you 
possessed more of that meekness, forbearance 
and kindness which characterised the Saviour, 
this difficulty would not be so great. Nor 
are you to allege that your aggressor has done 
wrong, and therefore deserves punishment. 
This is admitted ; but at whose hands does 
he deserve it : will you assume the right of 
inflicting punishment when it is deserved? 
This is the prerogative which God most ex- 
plicitly claims to himself: Vengeance is mine, 



195 

I will repay ^ saith the Lord. When you un- 
dertake to avenge yourself, surely you cannot 
reflect on all the consequences. The wilful 
transgression of his law is bold and impious 
rebellion against him ; by what name shall 
we call it, then, to arrogate and presume to 
exercise one of the sacred and awful perfec- 
tions of God 1 Besides, you not only teach 
God, but you do virtually pray to him that 
he would treat you as you do those who of- 
fend or injure you. Every degree of anger 
and resentment which you feel — every pro- 
voking word you utter — every effort you 
make to injure your adversary, is an appeal 
to God that he would visit you ; not with the 
pardon of sin, according to his tender mercy, 
but in justice, according to' the guilt of your 
offences against him. It is from the assur- 
ance that God will execute justice that your 
duty is inferred — / will repay j therefore^ if 
thine enemy hunger^ feed him^ <^c. If the 
Sovereign Judge had not pledged himself to 
do justice, this duty would not be so forcibly 
and so clearly enjoined. This pledge from 
God takes away from you the plea that your 
enemy deserves punishment. The world, 
indeed, will justify your resentment and your 
retaliation ; but the world is ignorant of the 
principles by which, as a Christian, you are 
governed. The world knoweth us not. The 



196 

spirit and principles of the Christian charac- 
ter are foolishness to the natural man ; neither 
can he know them^ because they are spiritually 
discerned. He that is spiritual discerneth all 
things^ yet he himself is discerned of no man. 
You are not to be conformed to this world in 
its spirit, its principles, or its practice. You 
are not to reject the declarations of the 
Bible as if their truth and their tendency 
were doubtful, and in their place adopt the 
maxims and spirit of an ignorant and wicked 
world. You are to cherish the spirit and 
imitate the example of Christ, who prayed 
for the pardon of those enemies who nailed 
him to the cross. 

There is a collateral view of the subject 
which enforces this duty and confirms the 
hope that your kindness will transform your 
enemy into a friend ; it is the method of the 
gospel in bringing sinners to God ; they are 
softened, and subdued and changed by kind- 
ness. Every human being, by nature, feels 
towards God an enmity which is deep-rooted, 
active and persevering. This opposition 
never has been and never will be subdued by 
any degree of terror which sinners can be 
made to feel. It is melted away by the in- 
fluence of sovereign grace ; and especially 
by that astonishing instance of unmerited 
goodness and infinite mercy, the pardon of 



197 

sin. The very moment the hope of pardon 
is cherished, that moment this enmity dies, 
to revive no more as a dominant principle 
in the heart, and love to God ascends the 
throne in its place. Enemies are changed 
into friends, not by the terrors of the law, 
nor by the sword of justice, but by the lov- 
ing kindness displayed through the cross of 
Christ. Now if we were not creatures and 
bound to obey our Sovereign, if we really 
desired to be most useful to mankind, we 
would most successfully adopt that method 
which the wisdom of God has devised, and 
which he employs in converting sinners to 
himself, in transforming determined enemies 
into sincere and cordial friends. JfGod, 
who is better acquainted with the nature of 
men than we are, has appointed this method, 
and uniformily employs the instrumentality 
of kindness in changing his enemies into 
friends, we may confidently hope for success 
on the same plan, and by the same means. 

Why, it may be asked, do we not see and 
feel more of the blessed and happy effects of 
these principles of the Christian religion ? 
One reason is, there are thousands who pro- 
fess to be Christians, who are not such in 
reality ; they are, in fact, governed by the 
principles ofthe world. They have a name 
that they live, but are dead ; they have 
17* 



198 

the form of godliness, but feel not its renova- 
ting power. They do not bridle the tongue 
from backbiting, from slander, from malicious 
censure and reproach, and therefore their 
religion is vain ; they do not possess the spirit 
of Christ, which is a spirit of meekness, for- 
bearance, forgiveness and charity ; but, es- 
pecially when provoked, they manifest a 
spirit of anger, hatred, malice and revenge ; 
therefore, we are assured they are none of his. 
It is most unreasonable to look for the eifects 
of a principle where that principle does not 
exist. Do men gather grapes off thorns, or figs 
off thistles? No more are we to expect the 
happy effects of the Bible from those, who, 
whatever they may profess, are governed by 
enmity of heart against the spirituality, the 
purity, and authority of that holy book. 
There is another reason, which cannot be 
mentioned without shame and sorrow; that is, 
the criminal deficiencies and the negligence 
of Christians. They sometimes feel a want 
of entire confidence in the truth of the divine 
declarations regarding this subject ; they he- 
sitate whether it would not be better to take 
the work of vengeance into their own hands. 
God has promised, indeed, that he will repay; 
but whether he will do it at the time, and in 
the manner, and to that degree, which they 
conceive he ought, is rather doubtful ; and 



199 

although they have his solemn promise that 
he will do justice in the case, yet a secret 
fear, which they would not profess, and 
which they would willingly conceal from 
their own view, lest he should fail, prompts 
them to undertake it themselves. Hence, 
although they are Christians, yet through un- 
belief lurking in the heart, they do not ex- 
emplify their own principles, which are set 
aside in the present case, and the spirit and 
principles of the world, as better calculated 
to answer the purpose, are adopted. In this 
state of mind, they feel and reason and act 
as men of the world would do in similar 
circumstances. There is sometimes a dis- 
trust respecting the success of their forbear- 
ance and kindness in disarming an enemy of 
his hostile feelings, and awakening in his 
bosom those of a friendly character. They 
will allege that his disposition is too harsh 
and unfeeling, his resentment too implacable, 
and his hatred too inveterate to be softened 
by their kindness. Thus the motive which 
should urge them forward in persevering 
efforts is weakened through this secret un- 
belief, and the case is given up as hopeless. 
Jf the husbandman should suffer his mind to 
be disquieted with doubts and fears respecting 
the success of his labours, and therefore de- 
cline these labours altogether, his doubts 



200 

and his conduct would be considered both 
unreasonable and crinriinal ; not less so arc 
Christians, who, through groundless fears, ne- 
glect these pious and benevolent exertions. 
The mere possibility that their eifbrts may 
fail, is not an excuse for their declining to 
make them ; they are faithfully to discharge 
their duty, and leave the event to God zuho 
giveth the increase. Christians are charge- 
able with criminal neglect, in not keeping 
the heart with all diligoicc^-ai the moment 
when provocation is oilcred. It is not their 
intention to suffer any violent anger to agitate 
their bosom ; but before they are aware, some 
unhallowed feeling is excited, under the in- 
fluence of which ihvy speak, not the language 
of meekness and conciliation, but unguarded- 
ly. This provokes their aggressor still more; 
and they are imperceptibly led to a degree 
of passion, which, instead of recommending, 
brings a reproach on their profession, and, in 
moments of cool reflection, becomes to them- 
selves a source of bitter regret. Good will 
it be for them, if this regret shall make them 
more watchful in future ; better far, however, 
had it been, if by w^atchfulness and prayer 
they had prevented the cause of this reproach 
and this regret. All this, however, admit- 
ted, it does not in the least affect our posi- 
tion ; that the Bible has a direct and power- 



201 

ful tendency, by reforming the heart, to 
promote the happiness of man; and we do 
strenuously contend that in all cases this will 
be the result of its operation. We repeat, 
that when its principles do not operate, we 
cannot expect to see their effects. Let Chris- 
tians guard against the shadow of doubt or 
distrust respecting the declarations, and 
cheerfully obey the precepts relating to the 
duties now under consideration ; by watch- 
fulness and prayer, especially when provoca- 
tion is offered, let them prevent the slightest 
degree of anger ; and they will remove this 
cause of sorrow and reproach, and support 
this conclusion by testimony which may bid 
defiance even to scepticism itself. 

Experiment is the best, indeed, the only 
way to try the tendency of any system or 
principle ; that is, to view it in full and com- 
plete operation ; and we contend that so far 
as the experiment has been made, on the 
principles of the Bible, the result does tri- 
umphantly support our conclusion. Let the 
experiment be more general, and this proof 
will be more abundant and more undeniable. 
The voice of inspiration, if we are not mis- 
taken in its meaning, justifies the firm belief, 
that this earth shall not meet its final doom ; 
that these heavens shall not be rolled to- 
gether as a scroll, nor pass away with a great 



202 

noise, till an experiment shall be made on a 
more general scale than has ever yet been 
witnessed ; from which, proof in support of 
the point for which we contend will be fur- 
nished, not less convincing than that derived 
from mathematical demonstration. Cast for- 
ward the eye of faith and hope to that state 
of the church and of the world, when the 
sublime and glowing figures of prophetic vi- 
sion shall be verified ; when the life-giving 
power of the gospel shall destroy the wicked 
and turbulent passions of men, and awaken 
in the heart supreme, sincere and ardent love 
to God and man ; when war and bloodshed 
will no longer desolate the earth ; when an- 
ger, malice, and resentment shall no longer 
corrode the breast, nor disturb the harmony 
of neighbours, of friends, of brethren; when 
peace and happiness shall bless this poor, 
miserable, and sinful world in a degree which 
has never been experienced since Adam was 
driven out of Paradise. The prophet, after 
shadowing forth the joyous harmony of that 
day by the most significant emblems of 
peace, closes the account with this summary 
declaration ; They shall not hurt nor destroy 
in all my holy mountain ; and then, not 
leaving us to mere conjecture on the subject, 
points out the cause of all this blessedness ; 
For the earth shall he full of the knowledge of 



203 

the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. The 
waters of the ocean touch and cover every 
inch which is below the level of their surface; 
in like manner, at that time, will every 
neighbourhood and every family be touched 
and influenced by the Bible. All the mis- 
eries under which the world is now groaning, 
and from which it will then be relieved ; all 
the peace and happiness which shall then 
prevail, will be the powerful and genuine 
elfect of the gospel. That gospel is the 
same now that it will be then. Not another 
doctrine, not another precept, not another 
promise or invitation will be added, as the 
means of producing these glorious and happy 
effects. The very doctrines, precepts, and 
promises with which we are favoured, will 
be effectual for this purpose. The proof 
derived from an experiment yet to be made, 
provided we know with certainty the result 
of the experiment, is the same with that fur- 
nished by an experiment actually made. Im- 
mutable truth, then, declares what will be 
the result of this grand experiment; that it 
will fill the earth with friendship, and harmo- 
ny, and peace, and joy. The effects of the 
gospel, at that day, and those which it is now, 
and ever has been producing, differ only in 
degree, not in kind : of course, it follows, 
that in proportion to the degree of power 



204 

which it exerts on the heart and on the con- 
duct of men, it is now, and ever has been 
producing the very same effects ; and that 
the world is now so much the less miserable 
and so much the more happy in exact pro- 
portion to its saving and transforming power. 
Diminish this power, and you increase the 
sufferings of this life ; increase this power, 
and you increase the happiness of man. 



205 



SECTION V. 



The gospel furnishes support in affliction — Influence of 
faith, hope and love. 



After all the happy effects which the gos- 
pel is calculated to produce, and is actually 
producing, there will be numberless afflic- 
tions from which the Christian cannot escape; 
it remains, then, to point out the strong con- 
solation, the powerful support which the 
Bible furnishes to him, under the pressure 
of these sufferings. To mention these afflic- 
tions in detail is unnecessary, if it were prac- 
ticable. The Christian is as liable to epide- 
mical diseases, to losses and disappointments 
in his property as others are. At least he is 
liable to them in some degree ; though we 
are inclined to believe, not quite as much as 
others ; for we think it probable that a life of 
intemperance and debauchery will predis- 
pose the system to disease, more than sobriety 
and temperance ; and that industry, economy 
and prudence will guard in some measure, 
against these losses and disappointments. 
He is hable to suffer through his friends ; and 
18 



206 

the valley and shadow of death is before 
him which he cannot escape. Besides all 
these, he meets with trials which are pecu- 
liar to the Christian, from the prevalence of 
sin and temptation in the world. In the 
midst of all these sufferings the gospel brings 
him consolation and support which no im- 
penitent sinner can receive. He is not in- 
debted to a mere effort of his imagination 
for this support, it arises from the character 
which he possesses, from the relation he sus- 
tains to God and the Saviour, from his faith, 
his hope, and the devout affections of his 
heart. These are the means employed by 
the Father of mercies in bearing up his peo- 
ple in the midst of their sufferings. Divest 
the Christian of this character, dissolve this 
relation, extinguish these affections, and you 
cut him off from the source of his comfort, 
and leave him weak and disconsolate as other 
men. 

View the Christian in the midst of his 
sufferings, and mark the fortitude with which 
he endures the most exquisite pain, and the 
patience and meek submission with which 
he resigns himself to the will of his heavenly 
Father. His support is not the sullen, re- 
bellious insensibility of the stoic; he feels 
and acknowledges the pain which he suffers. 
He is not so absurd as to deny the difference 



207 

between pleasure and pain ; nor so impious 
as to deny that the hand of God can afflict 
hinn. Under every kind and degree of suf- 
fering his faith brings him real and substan- 
tial support. This, from the constitution of 
the human mind, and from the nature of this 
faith, will be the result of its exercise. If, 
during the pressure of affliction, the mind 
dwells chiefly on the pain and distress which 
are felt ; on the pleasures which he once en- 
joyed, and of which he is now deprived ; on 
the freedom from pain and the peaceful en- 
joyment of others ; and above all, if he can 
see no good purpose to be answered by his 
sufferings ; the mind will become dispirited 
and faint, and the pressure of affliction will 
become heavier and less tolerable; every re- 
collection of the past, every view of present 
circumstances and future prospects increases 
the gloom and despondency under which he 
is sinking. The Christian is not left comfort- 
less in his affliction. His faith furnishes him 
with materials of thought so deeply interest- 
ing and so pleasing as to draw off his atten- 
tion from the present affliction, and fix it 
chiefly on objects which prevent despond- 
ency, and strengthen, animate, cheer and 
support the mind. He believes most firmly 
that his afflictions, heavy and complicated as 
they may be, come not forth of the dust^ nei- 



208 

iher doth his irouhle^ spring out of the ground ; 
that his afflictions are not the result of acci- 
dent or of chance, but sent by his heavenly 
Father to work for his good ; that the time, 
the degree, and all other circumstances re- 
lating to them are determined and regulated 
by infinite wisdom and goodness ; that they 
are intended to deliver him from the power 
of remaining sin, detach him more effectually 
from this world which is delusive, ensnaring 
and dangerous ; to increase his confidence in 
God, and render more precious to his heart 
the Saviour, and that gospel which exhibits 
the Saviour, to increase his holiness, and 
thus qualify him in a greater degree for the 
joy of his Lord, for the inheritance of the 
saints in light. While, therefore, he believes 
that these afflictions are working out for him 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory than he should ever attain without them, 
he does not faint when rebuked of his Father. 
Nor does he exhibit that sullen submission 
arising from mere necessity, because he can 
neither escape nor remove his afflictions ; 
but resigning himself cheerfully and volun- 
tarily to the will of his God who, he believes, 
does not afflict zcillingly. His patience pre- 
serves him from murmuring, npinin^ and 
fretfulness ; and he prefers his affliction to 
any other state, not that it is for the present 



209 

joyous, but grievous ; but because it flows 
from the love and affection of his Friend in 
heaven, and on account of its tendency to 
improve his moral character, and thus to fit 
him for higher degrees of glory and greater 
measures of happiness during his eternal ex- 
istence. He feels, in some degree, the spirit, 
and may use the language of his Saviour : 
O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup puss 
from me! nevertheless, not as I will, but as 
thou wilt. O my Father, if this cup may not 
pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will 
be done. 

This is the only way in which the mind 
can be supported under suffering, or com- 
forted under sorrow ; that is, by drawing off 
the thoughts, as much as possible, from the 
pain which is felt, and fixing them strongly 
on other objects, which make such impres- 
sions on the mind as enable it to bear its 
sufferings with fortitude. This is the theory 
according to which the Christian's faith 
comforts and supports him in the hour of 
distress. / had fainted, said the Psalmist, 
unless I had believed to see the goodness of 
the Lord in the land of the living. Hence, 
the exhortation which he offers is the result 
of his own experience : Wait on the Lord : be 
of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine 
heart : wait, I say, on the Lord. When Paul, 
18* 



210 

after the fatigues of a perilous voyage, saw 
the brethren come from Rome to meet him, 
he thanked GoeU cind took courage. The 
sight, and friendly gratulation of these bre- 
thren, furnished a new and pleasing train of 
thought ; these thoughts gave a new spring 
to his mind, and prepared him with forti- 
tude to bear the present and meet the fu- 
ture trials of his life. 

There is a principle belonging to the hu- 
man mind, called the princi[)le of association. 
One event, or one object, brings to our re- 
collection and to our thoughts another, with 
which it is in some wny or olher connected. 
It was on this principle, that the presence o( 
these brethren reanimated the apostle's mind 
with fresh courage. Their presence awoke 
in his mind a flow of thought, which made 
him forget the perils of his past life, and 
enabled him to meet, with unyielding firm- 
ness, the trials which awaited him in future. 
Here are the disciples of that Saviour in 
whose cause he was engaged, to whom he 
was under infinite obligations, for whom he 
had suffered much, and was willing to sufifer 
the loss of all things ; here are those who 
will sympathise with him, and pray for him, 
and comfort him ; here are the fruits of that 
gospel of which he was not ashamed, and 
which he was ready to preach at Rome also. 



211 

Faith would naturally carry his thoughts 
away from this world, and elevate them to 
heaven, to dwell on all that is cheering and 
invigorating there; on his Intercessor and 
Advocate with the Father; on the multi- 
tudes already redeemed from this earth, and 
now surrounding the throne of God ; on that 
crown of glory, which the Lord, the right- 
eous Judge, shall give him at the last day. 
With those thoughts his soul grew warm, as 
the word (tharsos) signifies. Thus he was 
comforted together with them, by the mutual 
faith both of them and him. According to 
the same principle, when he came into 
Macedonia, he was pressed with troubles 
from every side ; loithout, zvere fightings, 
zoithin, were fears: Nevertheless, God, he ob- 
serves, who comforteth those who are cast 
down, comforted us by the coming of Titus. 
On this principle it is, that faith supports 
the Christian. Affliction is strongly asso- 
ciated in his mind with other subjects, which 
of course it brings to his recollection and his 
thoughts. He is reminded of his sins, on 
account of which it is sent, and from which 
it is intended to deliver him. The goodness 
of God, who directs this affliction for this 
important purpose, is brought with pleasure 
and with invigorating power to his thoughts. 
The sufiferings of the present state forcibly 



212 

impress upon his mind the insufficiency of 
this world, as a portion for the soul, and re- 
mind him of that better country, of that rest 
which remains for the people of God, and in- 
crease his desire to depart and be with Christ 
which is far better. Yet this desire is united 
with the spirit of meek submission, which 
enables him to say ; all the days of my ap- 
pointed time zoill I wait till my change come. 

Hope is another ground of support, and 
source of consolation to the Christian, under 
all the trials and distresses of this life. 
This is not a simple airection, but seems to 
be compounded of desire and expectation. 
Desire implies that there is something in its 
object, the possession of which will con- 
tribute to our happiness; expectation im- 
plies that there are reasons for believing that 
we shall possess this object. The object of 
hope is always future; it will, of course, 
continually carry the mind away from all 
that is past, and all that is present, to some- 
thing still before us. This object will, there- 
fore, give the most pleasing, the most ani- 
mating employment to our thoughts. It is 
the nature of all affections, to bring their 
objects frequently to our thoughts. If the 
object of these affections be good, then this 
employment of our thoughts will be pleasing 
and dehghtful. Now, the object of hope is 



213 

always something good ; for it is an object 
of desire. The frequency, the interest, and 
the pleasure, with which it will occupy the 
nnind, will be in proportion to the degree of 
happiness expected from its possession. If 
that view of the object which excites our 
desire be erroneous, if we suppose it to pos- 
sess qualities, which it really does not ; or if 
those reasons which support our expectation 
be fallacious and groundless ; then, sooner 
or later, our hope, however pleasing it may 
have been, must end in the bitterness of dis- 
appointment. But if our views of the object 
be true, if it really possesses the qualities 
which we suppose it does ; and if the reasons 
on which our expectation is founded be sub- 
stantial ; then, our hope will he joy and glad- 
ness ^ the possession of this object, and the 
increase of our happiness, are certain. Such 
is the nature of hope in general, whether its 
object be temporal or eternal, whether it 
belongs to this world or to the world of 
spirits. 

Now, it is obvious, that all that is interest- 
ing in this analysis is embraced in the Chris- 
tian's hope. God himself, with all his infinite 
perfections, is the object of this hope. The 
Lord will be the hope of Israel : Blessed is 
the man whose hope the Lord is. Christ, the 
divine Redeemer, is the object of it : The 



214 

Lord Jesus Christy which is our hope. All 
that is expressed by the terms eternal life, is 
embraced by this hope : in hope of eternal 
life which God hath promised. All, therefore, 
that is majestic, and sublime, and venerable, 
and gracious, and merciful, and lovely in the 
Triune Jehovah ; all that is joyful, and glo- 
rious, and eternal in the happiness of heaven, 
is included in the object of this hope. That 
view of these objects, or that knowledge 
which excites the Christian's desire, cannot be 
erroneous ; for it is the truth of God himself. 
Those reasons on which his expectation is 
founded cannot deceive him ; for they are 
the declarations, the promises of immutable 
veracity ; together with that degree of holi- 
ness, or fitness for the enjoyment of these 
objects, which he has already acquired. 
These are the reasons which he is ready to 
give for the hope that is in him. This hope, 
from its very nature, has a powerful tendency 
to promote this holiness, to increase this fit- 
ness, and thus to strengthen the foundation 
on which it is built. For every man that 
hath this hope in him, purifeth himself even 
as he, who is the object of it, is pure. This 
shows the connection which hope has with 
faith; a connection similar to that of the effect 
with the cause, or the germ and the stalk 
with the seed and the root. The true cha- 






215 

racter of God, and the nature of heaven are 
made known in his word ; it is therefore the 
knowledge and behef of this word which ex- 
cite that desire which is an essential part of 
hope. This same truth sanctifies the heart, 
and contains the promises which support ex- 
pectation ; the other essential part of hope. 
Hence faith is the substance of things hoped 
for, because it is, the evidence oj things not 
seen. He that would blast this hope, must 
divest Jehovah of his character; he that 
would shake its foundation, must shake the 
truth of heaven itself. The Christian, there- 
fore, cannot have faith without hope, nor 
hope without faith. If he has the support of 
faith, he has also the rejoicing of hope. 

This hope is, at all times, and under all 
circumstances, interesting to the Christian. 
When surrounded by the smiles of worldly 
prosperity, these smiles are rendered more 
cheering by the presence of this hope. But 
when the sun of prosperity is clouded from 
his view ; when trials perplex him ; when 
distress invades him ; when the weight of af- 
fliction presses heavily upon him ; when 
every rivulet of earthly comfort is drying up ; 
then is this hope peculiarly interesting; then 
does he realise the truth of the remark that 
" hope is the balm of life ;" then is this hope 
as an anchor to the soul, both sure and stead- 



216 

fast^ because it eniereth into that within the 
vail ; or, " because fixed into the place with- 
in the vail ; that is, into heaven, whither he 
shall be drawn, by this anchor, as ships are 
drawn to the place where their anchors are 
fixed." From the dark gloom with which he 
is surrounded not one cheering ray of light 
breaks on his mind. His present circum- 
stances, viewed only in the light which this 
world can shed on them, suggest none but 
ideas calculated to depress and overwhelm 
the mind. The light of faith strengthens and 
animates him, by showing the connection be- 
tween these afflictions and his own salvation, 
and the loving kindness and goodness of his 
Father. Hope pours her cordial into his 
bosom, and revives his spirit with the light 
of life. Hope at all times leads the mind 
awa)' from the past and the present to things 
that are future ; and never does the mind 
stretch forward with more intense eagerness 
than from those scenes where all is dark and 
comfortless, and discouraging. The objects 
of hope are always pleasing and welcome to 
the thoughts ; never more so than now, when 
every thought from the world is afflictive and 
dispiriting. His body remains on earth, ex- 
posed to suffering; but his thoughts are em- 
ployed about the objects of hope ; and the 
more he thinks of them, the more desirable 



217 

and the more conrjoling do they become. 
The foundation of this hope is considered, 
its firmness is tried ; and the more closely it 
is examined, the more solid and immoveable 
does it appear. While his thoughts are thus 
employed, his soul is warmed and invigorated 
viMth a glow of pious and devout feehng, 
which, though it may not remove,yet lightens 
the pressure of affliction. The inconve- 
niences of life, the sufferings and pains of the 
body afflict and depress the mind just in pro- 
portion as they fix the attention and employ 
the thoughts ; just in proportion, therefore, 
as other objects of a pleasing nature occupy 
the attention, they will bring comfort and 
support to the mind. How strong, then, is 
the consolation which hope brings to the 
Christian under all the nameless evils and 
sufferings of this life ! No suffering can draw 
his thoughts away from spiritual objects ; of 
these he will think, on account of these suf- 
ferings, with more intense application, and 
derive from them more consolation and sup- 
port. He is, therefore, saved by hope ; saved 
from murmuring, impatience, and despond- 
ency. With all the full assurance of hope 
he anticipates the last hour of his conflict and 
his sufferings, and his entrance into the joy 
of his Lord. Compared with this joy, his 
are light afflictions ; compared with its eter- 
19 



218 

nal duration, they endure but for a moment. 
The hope which brightens the darkest scenes 
with the cheering light of heaven, which an- 
innates and supports him through the trials of 
life, and enables him to triumph in the hour 
of death, must be a good hope. 

Love is another aflection, from which the 
human mind derives no little enjoyment. It 
is called into exercise by the view of some- 
thing iiood, the possession of which would 
contribute to our happiness. It also presents 
its object to our thoughts with a frequency 
and a pleasing interest in proportion to the 
amiable qualities by which it is excited, and 
the degree of happiness expected from pos- 
session. From the frequency with which its 
object engages our thoughts, this affection 
exerts a transforming influence on the mind. 
This is especially the case when its objects 
are of our own species. This affection in- 
clines us to construe their whole deportment 
in the most favourable light. It renders us 
blind to their defects and their blemishes, and 
generally suggests an excuse for their faults. 
It magnifies their virtues, and very much en- 
hances the value of the favours they confer 
on us. Their presence, their conversation, 
imparts to the mind a pleasing elasticity, and 
awakens an exhilarating glow of feeling 
which is one of the purest earthly joys. When 



219 

they are absent, past interviews are called 
up with the fondest recollection, and future 
meetings are anticipated with all the joyous 
ardour of hope. We find a pleasure in act- 
ing according to their desires, and are ready, 
with cheerfulness, to make any sacrifice of 
our own convenience or comfort to promote 
their happiness. We are delighted to hear 
their praise from others, and the slightest re- 
proach on their character gives us pain. We 
are disposed to adopt their sentiments, and 
imitate their examples ; and thus we are very 
much under their influence, and our happi- 
ness and respectability are, in no small de- 
gree, placed in their power. If those whom 
we love are truly virtuous and worthy, our 
affection for them will raise us in the estima- 
tion of the good and the wise, and contribute 
very much to our happiness in life. But if 
they are unworthy and vicious, our affections 
will sink us with them to misery and disgrace* 
Such are the effects of love ; and it is better 
defined by its effects than by any other me- 
thod. 

When this affection is directed to God and 
the Saviour, its tendency to contribute to 
our happiness and especially to support us 
under affliction, must be obvious to every 
one. It is excited by a view of the moral 
perfections of the divine character; and the 



220 

more accurate and the more extensive our 
views of these perfections arc, the more ar- 
dent, sincere, and delightful will this affection 
be. These perfections are displayed in the 
work of creation and providence, but chiefly 
in the cross of Christ, and in the salvation of 
sinners. Hence we see the connection of this 
love with faith, by which we behold these 
glories, revealed in the gospel. The moment 
we are united to Christ by faith, that mo- 
ment we have such a view of the infinite 
goodness and mercy of God as kindles this 
devout and heavenly affection in our hearts. 
As our faith increases, our love wmH increase 
with it. fVe love hhn, because he first loved 
us ; and this is the manifestation of his love 
towards us, that he sent his only begotten son 
into the worlds that we might live through 
him. 

Consider the direct and powerful effect 
which this love will have in supporting and 
comforting the Christian under all the losses 
and disappointments and sorrows of this life. 
Is he disappointed in his expectations, and 
deprived of worldly enjoyments ? Love will 
interpret these dispensations of providence 
as blessings, because they are part of the de- 
signs and works of God. Is he perplexed 
and annoyed with temptations? This is to 
try his faith, and prove the sincerity of his 



/ 



221 

tattachment to the Saviour and his cross. Is 
he brought down by sickness? This, though, 
for the present not joyous, but grievous, is 
understood as an evidence of fatherly kind- 
ness and attention ; for ivhom the Lord loveth 
he chasteneth^ and scoiirgeth every son whom 
Jie receiveth. h he called to weep at the 
grave of his pious friends ? They are taken 
away from the evil to come j they are with 
Christ, which is far better than to remain 
here. Is he at length called to enter the 
valley and shadow of death 1 He will fear 
no evil ^ for that God and Saviour whom he 
loves will be with him ', it is the termination 
of his conflicts and his sorrows ; to die is gain. 
Every duty is sweetened ; every gloomy, 
desponding thought is met and repelled ; 
every difficulty and trial is surmounted; every 
affliction is lightened, and even welcomed ; 
and death itself is stripped of all its terror, 
and changed into an angel of mercy, by love. 
This heaven-born affection cheers and sup- 
ports him through every scene of life, dispels 
the darkness from the tomb, and sheds its 
brightest and mildest splendours over all the 
realities of eternity. 

Such is the support and consolation which 
the Bible affords the Christian, under those 
afflictions from which he cannot escape ; 
and such is the manner in which this sup- 
ID"^ 



222 

port is derived, and in which the nnind is 
sustained and comforted. Hope and love 
are excited by objects most worthy of these 
affections, and most powerfully calculated to 
call them forth. These affections fill the 
mind with a cheerful glow of approbation of 
the character of God, and the dispensations 
of his providence, under which these suffer- 
ings occur. Hope and love, together with 
that faith from which they spring, and with 
which they are inseparably connected, are 
the means by which a gracious God pre- 
serves his people from despair, fills them 
with comfort, and not unfrequently renders 
them exceeding joyful in all their tribulation. 
Numerous facts, derived from the history 
of the human mind, might be adduced to 
confirm and illustrate this theory. This is 
the method adopted by the captive Indian, 
who knows nothing of Christ or of his gos- 
pel, when bound to the stake, and doomed 
to expire under all the protracted tortures 
which the ingenuity of his enemies can in- 
flict. He cannot render himself insensible; 
when the flesh and the sinews are torn by 
inches from the bone, he must feel the most 
exquisite pain. He does not leave his mind 
entirely vacant, to resist his sufferings by 
simple efforts of volition ; but by a strong 
effort of thought, he remembers the heroism 



i 



223 

and renown of his ancestors, and feels, that 
it now depends on him to maintain, and 
transmit to posterity, the invincible firmness 
and characteristic bravery of his nation, and 
particularly of his own family. These are 
the thoughts which fortify his mind ; and 
these are the reasons, on account of which, 
he defies his enemies, mocks their imbecility, 
suffers and dies without gratifying them with 
a single complaint or a single groan. 

When the general of an army observes 
his soldiers advancing with trembling and 
hesitating steps, dispirited and timid, without 
the animating influence of hope, influenced 
by secret apprehensions of the result, shrink- 
ing from the contest ; he adopts this method 
to cheer their spirits and invigorate their 
minds with courage. In his harangue, if he 
cannot deny the facts, and disprove the re- 
ports which have chilled their minds, he la- 
bours to divert their thoughts, as much as 
possible, from these discouraging topics, and 
fix them on objects pleasing and animating 
in their nature. His knowledge of the hu- 
man mind will be displayed by the fitness 
and tendency of his remarks, to answer this 
special purpose. If he can gain the direc- 
tion of their thoughts, he will succeed ; he 
will inspire them with the cheering hope of 
victory, and with courage and resolution for 



224 

the contest. But if he cannot gain this di- 
rection ; if he cannot break the association 
of their thoughts, with the gloomy subjects 
which intimidate and depress their spirits, 
his effort is vain, his labour is lost. Pru- 
dence will suggest to him the policy of de- 
clining the contest with soldiers already 
vanquished in their own apprehension. 

This is the true theory of persuasion, and 
shows the powerful and astonishing eflects 
of eloquence on (he mind. To persuade, is 
to present considerations calculated to se- 
cure the performance of a particular act, or 
the pursuit of a certain course of conduct. 
Passions are the great motives to action ; 
these can be excited, only by fixing the 
thoughts on objects calculated to produce 
this etlect. Persuasion implies that there is 
more or less aversion to the action or the 
course proposed ; this, again, implies an asso- 
ciation of thought with objects which feed this 
aversion. This association is to be dissolved, 
and this aversion is to be overcome. Other 
objects are to be presented to the mind, which 
will give such a direction to the thoughts, 
and awaken such passions as accord with the 
ultimate design. This task will try the 
power, and skill, and art of the orator. 
With this view, he will delight the fancy 
with the beauty of his images, and the bril- 



I 



225 

liancy of the dress in which he clothes his 
ideas. He will impart to the most trite and 
common subjects, all the charms of novelty ; 
and interest his hearers by his action, by the 
expression of his countenance, and by the 
modulation of his voice. He will prepossess 
his hearers in his favour, by modesty and 
tenderness, or astonish them with boldness 
and energy, just as the progress of feeling 
seems to require. If he gives pleasure and 
delight, it is not because this is his ultimate 
object, but that he may dissolve those asso- 
ciations of thought, and efface those feelings 
which are unfriendly to his purpose ; that he 
may open an easy and direct access to the 
understanding, and gain a complete control 
over the thoughts. This accomplished, his 
point is gained ; he can then touch those 
chords of the heart which will vibrate in 
perfect unison with his design. 

If you wish to comfort a friend in distress, 
this is the method you adopt. You present 
the cause of grief in some new light, or in- 
troduce subjects which have but little con- 
nection with this cause, in order to divert 
the thoughts into a different channel. If 
you can succeed in this attempt, your pur- 
pose will, in some degree, be answered, your 
friend, by this diversion of thought, will be 
relieved from the pressure of his sorrow ; 



226 

but if not, you leave your friend as you found 
him, with mournful pleasure brooding on 
those subjects which feed his grief, and waste 
the vigour of his mind. No case, calling for 
the kind offices of your friendship, requires 
a more accurate knowledge of the human 
mind, and the manner in which it is influ- 
enced, than this. You can easily admonish 
your friend not to grieve ; but you might as 
well admonish the wind not to blow, or the 
waves of the ocean not to roll, unless you 
furnish the mind with some antidote to sor- 
row. The propriety of your remarks will 
depend on your knowledge of the thoughts 
and feelings of your friend; without this 
knowledge, your attempt may not only be 
useless, but even injurious ; it may increase 
the distress which it was intended to assuage. 
Guided, however, by this knowledge, if the 
mind of your friend will admit of comfort, 
you may leave him with the pleasing reflec- 
tion, that you have been instrumental in dis- 
pelling the gloom from his thoughts, and 
lightening the burden of his heart. 

Such is the method according to which 
the Lord is pleased to comfort and support 
his people. The subject is thus divested of 
that mystery, with which in the view, even 
of some Christians, it is too often surround- 
ed. They seem to possess a vague idea that 



227 

divine power will support them, independ- 
ently of the exercise of their own minds. 
This opinion is as unscriptural as it is un- 
philosophical. They might as well expect 
that the preserver of men would support the 
body without daily bread, as that he will 
support the mind in distress, without the ex- 
ercise of faith, and hope, and love, and other 
devout affections of the heart. Divine power, 
employed in this way, and for this purpose, 
would be miraculous; as was the power 
which preserved the three children in the 
fiery furnace. If there is a single passage 
of scripture, which seems to justify this 
opinion, it is because that passage is not 
correctly understood, or is perverted. My 
grace is sufficient for thee^ is a precious pro- 
mise, which has borne up, as it did Paul, 
many a Christian through scenes of the 
deepest affliction, and enabled him to take 
pleasure in injirmiiies^ in reproaches^ in neces- 
sities^ in persecutions^ in distresses for ChrisVs 
sake. Now, if any should content themselves 
with a vague impression that grace is a dis- 
tinct perfection or attribute of the divine 
character ; and that this supposed perfection 
will be exerted in some mysterious aad mi- 
raculous way for their support, they will, 
through their ignorance of the promise, de- 
prive themselves of all the consolation which 
it was intended to afford. But if by grace 



228 

they understand unmerited favour, they will 
receive the truth, that God will support 
them, will measure his kindness to them, 
not according to what they deserve for their 
sins, but according to his own good pleasure 
and sovereign mercy. Faith, and hope, and 
love, are the work and the gift of God. If 
he supports and comforts the Christian by 
means of the exercises of his own mind, it 
is as certainly his work, and his favour, as if 
the same effects were produced by imme- 
diate and direct agency. No man, there- 
fore, let his profession be what it may, let 
the exercise of his mind be what it may, 
who is not a sound Bible Christian, can en- 
joy that support and consolation which God 
bestows on his chosen people ; and no man, 
who is such a Christian, can, in proportion 
to his faith, be without this support. If 
Christians would read and study the Bible 
with more frequency, and with more prayer- 
ful attention, their knowledge would be more 
extensive, and more accurate ; their faith 
would be stronger, and more practical ; their 
hope would be firmer ; their love would be 
more ardent and sincere ; their life would be 
more useful to the church, and to the world; 
their support under afflictions would be more 
abundant ; and their joy and their glory, 
throughout their eternal existence, would be 
greater. 



229 
SECTION VI. 

The religion of the Bible, the true happiness of man. 

The most accurate analysis of human hap- 
piness will confirm the truth of the Bible; 
and particularly of this declaration ; godli- 
ness is profitable unto all things^ having pro- 
mise of the life that now is^ and of that 
which is to come. This happiness is not sim- 
ple in its nature, but very complex ; depend- 
ing on a variety of circumstances, and derived 
from a great variety of sources. Pleasure is 
either animal, or intellectual, or moral, or 
spiritual. These are distinct sources of en- 
joyment, which rise above each other in 
importance and refinement, in the order in 
which they are here stated. Of these, ani- 
mal pleasures are the lowest; these we enjoy 
in common with the brutes. They arise 
from the conveniencies of life, and from the 
gratification of those propensities and appe- 
tites which are peculiar to animal nature. 
Intellectual pleasure is derived from the ex- 
ercise and improvement of the mind in the 
acquisition of knowledge, in the cultivation 
20 



230 

of arts and science. Here man leaves the 
level of the brutes, and is elevated to a sphere 
of enjoyment to which they can never rise. 
Moral pleasure is derived from the exercise 
of the moral virtues; truth, justice, honesty, 
<Sz;c. ; and from the social atfections ; benevo- 
lence, sympathy, friendship, generosity, &;c. ; 
and from those affections which grow out of 
the conjugal, parental, filial and fraternal 
relations. Spiritual pleasure arises from the 
knowledge and belief of the Bible ; and from 
those pious affections which the Bible, 
through the agency of the Holy Spirit, ex- 
cites in the heart; meekness, humility, love, 
hope, gratitude, &c. This last is peculiarto the 
Christian. The others, animal, intellectual, 
and moral,may be enjoyed by those who never 
do, and never can taste those joys which 
are purely evangelical and spiritual. The 
Christian has (ree access to those three sub- 
ordinate sourc<;s of pleasure, from which the 
men of the world derive the whole amount 
of their Ijappiness ; while at the same time, 
he has access to another source of enjoyment 
better than either of these, suited to the na- 
ture of man, less liable to be interrupted, and 
more refined, from which they are cut off 
by their unbelief. It is not, however, doing 
justice to the Christian to represent him as 
merely on an equality with the men of the 



231 

world respecting the pleasure derived from 
these inferior sources : the point we con- 
ceive, is capable, not of mathematical de- 
monstration, indeed, but of illustration and 
proof, satisfactory to every candid mind, 
that he enjoys a greater degree of happiness 
from these sources than other men do, or 
than he would do if he did not possess the 
Christian character. The truth of this posi- 
tion, as it relates to animal pleasure, will, no 
doubt, appear the most questionable. On 
this subject a few remarks will, therefore, be 
offered. 

We must suppose the Christian, in all 
other respects, to be equal to those with 
whom he is compared ; he is to possess the 
same wealth with them, or they are to be 
surrounded with the same indigence and 
want with him ; they are to enjoy the same 
degree of health, or suffer the same affliction. 
Besides, in speaking of human happiness, our 
view must not be confined to a single day, 
or an hour ; but the whole period of life must 
be included. Temporary pain is often en- 
dured for the sake of future and lasting good; 
and temporary pleasure is often productive 
of long protracted pain. Those temporary 
pains which prolong the period of life, in- 
crease, of course, the amount of happiness ; 
and those pleasures which shorten this period, 



232 

of course, diminish this amount. It must be 
remembered also that religion does not 
change the natural appetites, belonging to 
man. Because the Christian loves and obeys 
God, his taste is not, therefore, blunted or 
destroyed. He will of course, derive as 
much pleasure from this source as they can. 
He is permitted to enjoy all the good things 
of this world, within the bounds of modera- 
tion ; which bounds are laid down in the 
Bible. All beyond these limits is inconsist- 
ent with happiness, and is therefore prohibit- 
ed. On this part of the subject, we refer to 
remarks already offered respecting intemper- 
ance^ which is, in the enjoyment of sensual 
pleasure, the transgression of these bounds. 
There are, however, not a few men of the 
world who are temperate in all these plea- 
sures : has the Christian any advantage over 
these ? 

If you should receive from a highly re- 
spected and beloved friend, something, sup- 
pose of no great value in itself, but as the 
evidence and pledge of your mutual friend- 
ship, and as the memorial of his affection for 
you ; would not this circumstance very much 
enhance its value, in your estimation? 
Would not the possession and enjoyment o/ 
this article give you much greater pleasure 
than if you had accidentally found it, or ever; 



^233 

obtained it bj your exertions? If obtained 
by your own exertions, its intrinsic value 
would have been precisely the same ; but the 
pleasure you derive from it is not propor- 
tioned to this abstract value, but chiefly to 
that friendship and atfection, of which it 
is the evidence and the memorial. Now 
this, in a degree, however, much more in- 
teresting, is the circumstance under which 
the Christian enjoys the blessings of this 
world. He feels and he acknowledges that 
he is a sinner ; and of course that he does not 
deserve these blessings. He acknowledges 
also that they are unmerited favours, bestow- 
ed on him by his heavenly Father. He re- 
ceives them as evidences of the love, the 
mercy, the forbearance, the compassion of 
God towards him. They remind him of this 
love and this mercy ; hence they awaken 
his gratitude and love to God, the giver of 
tvery good and perfect gift. He does not 
receive them as accidentally thrown in his 
way, or as the result of his own exertions ; 
though these exertions may have been used 
for this purpose ; but as sent to him, on the 
tide of Providence according to the special 
design of infinite wisdom. The daily bread 
which nourishes him ; the clothing which 
protects him ; that health, which is the basis 
of all earthly happiness, will be enjoyed, not 
20* 



234 

merely with that pleasure which arises from 
the gratification of appetite, but with a zest 
of delightful feeling, with a glow of gratitude 
and love, called forth by the reception of 
these blessings. " This bread," he will say, 
" is a gift from my heavenly Father ; is a 
proof that he still loves me, the evidence 
that, unworthy as I am, he still loves me." 
He cannot, therefore, receive it as a mere 
animal gratification, but with the additional 
pleasure which this circumstance imparts to 
it. Now, although it is a fact, that these 
favours are bestowed on the men of the 
world, by the same kind Providence, yet 
they do not acknowledge the fact ; they re- 
ceive the gift, but forget the benefactor. 
To their own exertions, and to the operation 
of second causes, they refer their enjoyments; 
of course, there is no object of gratitude and 
love presented to their mind; their thoughts 
are led no farther than to themselves, and to 
the agency of natural causes: nothing meets 
their view calculated to excite these affec- 
tions ; the whole amount, therefore, of plea- 
sure which they can taste, is sensual, derived 
from the gratification of appetite ; the plea- 
sure of the mere animal man. This the 
Christian enjoys in a degree equal with them; 
and has, in addition to this, the refined plea- 
sure derived from a devout and grateful heart. 



235 

Hence the declaration of the apostle ; every 
creature of God is good, and nothing to be re- 
fused, emphatically good, if it be received 

with THANKSGIVING. 

Remarks already offered, and to which 
we refer, are intended to show that the 
Christian enjoys a greater degree of intel- 
lectual pleasure than others. We also refer 
to some of the preceding observations as 
proof that he enjoys a greater degree than 
others, of that pleasure which we call moral, 
to distinguish it from that which is pious and 
spiritual. All the moral virtues, and all the 
friendly and social affections, are required of 
the Christian, by motives much more forcible 
than those which operate on the minds of 
men who are alienated from God, 

In this investigation, the medical effects of 
our passions and affections are too obvious 
and too important to be omitted. 

Physicians of the present day generally 
ascribe the primary changes produced by the 
passions, to their influence upon the nervous 
power or grand principle of vitality, by vvhich 
animated bodies are rendered susceptible of 
an infinite variety of impressions. In con- 
sequence of this influence, either the system 
in general, or some particular organ, is made 
to deviate from the exercise of those func- 
tions, on which health depends ; or is restor- 



236 

ed to its pristine office, after such deviations 
have taken place. Some of these passions, 
such as anger, wrath, resentment, &c. pro- 
duce their effect by exciting to some ex- 
cess through the power of their stimulus ; 
others, such as fear, sorrow, &c. by inducing 
a temporary torpor and depression, disturb 
the animal functions ; in the one case, by 
driving them into irregular haste by violent 
irritation ; in the other, from their opposite 
effects, by causing them to move too slowly. 
These irregularities cannot fail to render the 
system more liable to disease, and have a 
tendency to shorten the period of life. 
Other affections, such as love, hope, grati- 
tude, benevolence. Sic. impart to the mind a 
cheerful though placid state of feeling, which 
produces a pleasing and salutary flow of the 
animal spirits, which has a tendency to pre- 
serve the health and prolong the life. It is 
worthy of remark, that those passions which 
have the most pernicious effect on our cor- 
poreal system, are those most frequently 
and clearly prohibited in scripture ; and 
those which we are required to cherish, are 
those which have the most salutary influence 
on human life, and, of course, on human 
happiness. 

But although these effects are perceivable 
in a state of health, they are much more so 



237 

in a state of sickness and debility: On this 
subject, that eminent physician, the late Dr. 
Rush, has given a proof of his wisdom, and 
accurate knowledge of the salutary or dan- 
gerous effects which the feelings and opera- 
tions of the mind will have on the body. 
All who have read his Essays will remem- 
ber the " Eagle's nest." When the system 
is enervated, and especially when apprehen- 
sions of death are increasing, physicians, 
aware of the effect resulting from the least 
agitation or excitement, endeavour to keep 
the patient as quiet as possible ; and this 
reason is sometimes alleged for discouraging 
religious exercises. If the patient has pre- 
viously been accustomed to the devout exer- 
cises of the heart, this caution is unnecessary; 
such exercises will not injure him, but will 
most probably have a cheering effect on his 
spirits, and a salutary effect on the state of 
his health ; if he has neglected the one thing 
needful^ and has lived without God in the 
worlds then by what means is he to be quieted? 
Can he suspend the exercise of thought? If 
not, can he confine his thoughts exclusively to 
the present, to the pain which he feels, the fee- 
bleness which prostrates him, the mournful 
sympathy of his friends? Can he be secured 
from all recollections of the past, and from 
all anticipations of the future ? Can he quiet- 



238 

ly, and without fear, think of his past hfe ; 
of the privileges he has neglected, of the 
mercies he has abused, of the number and 
aggravated nature of the sins he has commit- 
ted against God, of that eternity into which 
he is about to be launched, of that judge in 
whose presence he is about to appear, of 
that sentence which will soon tix his ever- 
lasting condition ? To think of these appal- 
ling subjects without fear and dread, requires 
a heartof adamant; not to think of them under 
such circumstances, implies an ignorance and 
stupidity which are indications of future 
anguish and despair. They may not intend 
it, but really the caution of some physicians, 
and of some friends, in such cases, is loud 
and solemn preaching. It enforces on us, 
like a voice from the grave, the warnings and 
declarations of the Bible : Remember now 
thy Creator^ in the days of thy youths while 
the evil days come not, nor the years draw 
nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure 
in them : Behold, now is the accepted time ; 
behold, now is the day of salvation : the night 
Cometh, when no man c.in work. It tells us 
that health is the time to prepare for eternity; 
that when sickness has prostrated us, when 
apprehensions of death are increasing every 
moment, it is then too late ; that then the pa- 
tient is not to be alarmed, but quieted and 



239 

cheered if possible, with the kindly influ- 
ence of hope. But from whence is this hope 
to be derived ? His hfe has been an unin- 
terrupted scene of iniquity for which there 
is not a shadow of excuse ; will this quiet his 
fears, and cheer him with hope? The jaws 
of death are just closing on him with their 
last tremendous crush ; will this animate 
his spirits ? Before him is the judgment 
seat of Christ ; will this give tranquillity and 
peace to his mind ? No ; but still his danger 
is to be kept out of his view, and he is to be 
amused with the hope of recovery. Some- 
times this delusive amusement is continued 
till his connection with this world is for ever 
dissolved, and he is before his Judge. The 
fact is, that if he think of these subjects, it is 
at the peril of his life ; if he does not think of 
them, it is with the peril of his soul. 

On the other hand : Mark the perfect man^ 
and behold the upright^ for the end of that 
man is peaee. His failh in Christ secures the 
possession of this peace. Being justified by 
faith we have peace with God, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. The dearest objects of 
his affections which he is leaving behind, he 
can commend to the providence of his hea- 
venly Father; his afflictions he bears with 
patience and resignation ; the hope which he 
feels in a Saviour's death cheers and supports 



240 

him ; death itself will be gain to him ; the 
Judge before whom he is to appear is that 
Redeemer whom he loves, and who has 
bought him w^th his blood. The pious affec- 
tions of his heart will, therefore, preserve his 
mind in that state most favourable, if such 
should be the will of God, to his recovery. 
Nor docs it require any artful disguise to feed 
the hope which quiets and cheers his mind ; 
it is fed by the truth and mercy of God. The 
church may lament his loss ; but he can re- 
joice in view of his eternal rest. His friends 
may weep around him ; but he can triumph 
in the language of faith ; thanks he unto God 
who givdh me the victory. 

Our affections, it is well known, impart 
more or less of their own colouring to all ob- 
jects with which we are connected. The 
mind of melancholy cast sees every thing 
dressed in the sable hue of its own complex- 
ion. The mind constitutionally cheerful 
will view the same objects clothed in more 
inviting colours. On this principle the pious 
affections of the Christian contribute not a 
little to the happiness of his life ; a happiness 
which none but the Christian can enjoy. 
Love and hope are known to fill the mind 
with a steady and placid cheerfulness which 
imparts to every object a more pleasing as- 
pect, than that in which it would appear to 



241 

a mind without lliese atFectioiis. That which 
is gloomy and distressing, is less so ; that 
which is agreeable, is more so, through their 
benign influence. 

In this way, can we not ascertain the 
meaning of that very remarkable promise of 
our Saviour ; Blessed are the meek, for they 
shall inherit the earth. To inherit is to pos- 
sess as our own. But the possession of the 
things of this world is valuable no farther 
than they contribute to our happiness. Di- 
vest them of this tendency, and the posses- 
sion of them is of no value, they cease to be 
desirable or interesting to us. Those things 
which we do enjoy, from which we derive 
real happiness, are, in the same proportion, 
and for this very reason, our own ; for they 
answer the only purpose for which posses- 
sion is valuable. It is but little, compared 
with the whole, that w^e can enjoy, by the 
gratification of our appetites ; for these appe- 
tites are limited ; and satiety, disgust, and 
pain is the certain consequence of disregard- 
ing, or attempting to force, these limits. The 
Christian, in a legal sense, or according to the 
civil polity of his country, may possess but 
very little of this world ; yet in another sense, 
it is all his own. He views it through the 
medium of his affections, and particularly of 
love, and sees it dressed in those pleasing 
21 



242 

colours which these affections impart to it ; 
he derives less or more enjoyment from 
every part of it ; and with propriety it may 
be said, he inherits all that he enjoys. The 
splendours of wealth which only feed the 
pride or gratify the vanity of the legal pos- 
sessor, are, to the pious mind, a display of the 
divine munificence and glory ; from this 
wealth, therefore, he derives a real pleasure, 
while that of the possessor may be only im- 
aginary. If the earth, therefore, contri- 
butes to the ha[)pino5s of the meek, it is their 
inheritance ; an inheritance of wliich they 
cannot be deprived, unless they can be di- 
vested of their pious atTections. 

The Bible teaches us the true theory of 
human happiness ; and if we are not very 
widely mistaken, experience confirms this 
theory. When happiness is analysed, it will 
be found to depend far less on external cir- 
cumstances, than on the state of the mind. 
You may look at the splendid palace, adorned 
with every ornament, supplied with every 
convenience and comfort which wealth can 
procure, yet the inhabitants may be among 
the most miserable of mankind. Their ap- 
petites may be cloyed by repeated and ex- 
cessive indulgence ; their minds disquieted 
by pride, ambition, jealousy, and envy; torn 
and distracted by violent paroxysms of an- 



243 

ger, by deep-rooted hatred, by implacable 
resentment ; constantly agitated with discon- 
tent, impatience, fretfulness, and a host of 
similar feelings. Here are the means of such 
enjoyments as this earth can afford, but no 
real pleasure, no rational happiness. Visit, 
again, the cottage of the poor, without a sin- 
gle ornament, convenience or comfort which 
indicate wealth ; where every thing sug- 
gests the idea of poverty and want ; yet the 
tenants of this cottage may be among the 
happiest of mankind. Here is contentment 
with the condition in which Providence has 
placed them ; their scanty meals are received 
with gratitude, of course with real pleasure. 
This humble retreat is not invaded by the 
turbulence of guilty passions ; meekness, hu- 
mility, kindness, and charity, impart a mild 
and heavenly serenity. Here faith, and hope, 
and love, exert their influence in purifying 
the heart, in regulating the life, in raising 
the mind above this earth, and filling it with 
that joy and peace which flow from commu- 
nion with God. The sun of worldly pros- 
perity may visit them with but few of his 
rays ; but the sun of righteousness warms and 
animates and cheers their souls with his hea- 
venly beams. The favour of man may never 
smile upon them; but the favour of God 
which is life, and his loving kindness which 



244 

is better than life, fills them with joy and 
peace. In the exercise of fjiith through the 
benign influence of hof)e and love they have 
a source of happiiu^ss within tlicmselves, not 
liable to be atFcctcd by the perpetual flux 
and reflux which characterises all earthly 
pleasures. If the rivulets of worldly enjoy- 
ment should be left dry; or, what is more, 
if they should flow with the bitter waters of 
aflliction, they have, within themselves, a 
source of happiness which never fails. That 
river of life, which gladdens the city of God, 
flows with all its blessings into their hearts. 
The case is widely diilcrent with those who 
have no other source of enjoyment than this 
world. Every change in their circumstances 
will, of course, atfect their happiness ; one 
stroke of aflliction will cut them off from 
their enjoyments. Nor have they, when thus 
separated from the world, any other resource 
from whence real happiness can be derived. 
The world is their portion ; and when this is 
gone, they are left without relief from spirit- 
ual sources, to all the rude bufletings of ad- 
versity, and to all the corrodingsof disappoint- 
ed hopes and blasted expectations. 

Whether that most excellent tract. The 
Shepherd of Salisbury Plain, be "No Fic- 
tion," or not, we will not undertake to de- 
cide : we are sure, however, tliat it is not 



245 

romance. A more simple, natural, and 
touching nnrrative never flowed from an un- 
inspired pen. Every shepherd, every man, 
however humble his station, however strait- 
ened his circumstances, however numerous 
and pressing his afflictions, might be what 
this shepherd was; a man of faith and prayer, 
a man of ardent and scriptural piety. This 
man exemphfies the power of the Bible in 
supporting and cheering the mind under af- 
flictions, and filHng it with undisturbed se- 
renity and heavenly joy. He shows also the 
manner in which the Bible produces these 
effects; by exciting his faith, his hope, his 
love, and his gratitude ; by habitually calling 
his thoughts from objects afflictive and dis- 
couraging, to those which were delightful 
and animating, from things visible and tem- 
poral to things spiritual and eternal. We 
hesitate not to afinrm that this poor man, in 
his humble retreat, enjoyed more real happi- 
ness than the most wealthy man in the king- 
dom, without piety, couM possibly do, not 
excepting even the monarch who reigned 
over him. Nay, we think it questionable 
whether the sun, which never sets on the 
British dominions, shines on a happier man 
than the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. In 
offering this suggestion, we have not forgot- 
ten that some of the wealthy, and even some 
21* 



246 

of the nobility of that empire are pious. In 
addition to their piety, they have the means 
of procuring those comforts of which the 
shepherd is deprived. He is, however, con- 
tended, and cheerful, and happy with his 
coarse and scanty fare; they can be no more 
with their comforts and Ihcir delicacies. Ap- 
petite enables him to derive as i^reat a de- 
gree of animal pleasure from his plain and 
simple meal, as they can from their accus- 
tomed provisions, 'inhere is very little dif- 
ference, if any at all, between the enjoyment 
r)f animal pleasures, and perfect contentment 
without them. Would (he [)resenceof a little 
morsel ofsalt, ora mug of pure simple water 
on the table, or the prospect of a dry thatch 
over their heads, awaken in (heir hearts the 
same glow of grateful and joyful feeling which 
they did in his ? if not, then, surely he has 
the advantage of them ; he enjoys more hap- 
piness than they. In the catalogue of bless- 
ings for which they are thankful, these little 
things are overlooked ; the providence of 
God has taught him to notice and to value 
them as distinct and important additions to 
his happiness. 

We have, not unfrequently, visited the 
house of mournings made such by death ; and 
have listened to the languageof grief on these 
occasions. With close attention, we have 



247 

observed the diiferent character which 
sound scriptural piety, or the want of it, will 
give to the unrestrained language of sorrow. 
We have seen the husband taking the last 
look of the conapanion of his bosom ; a conn- 
panion whom he loved more than he loved 
his God and his Saviour, more than any other 
object in existence. She was the chief 
source of his happiness. He had lived with- 
out God in the world : had not been in the 
habit of acknowledging the providence of 
God ; of tracing his blessings or his afflictions 
back to the wise and good designs of a Fa- 
ther in heaven. His views extended no 
farther than his own agency, and that of a few 
natural causes which had forced themselves 
on his observation. He has heard of the 
name of a Saviour, and of salvation through 
him ; but is as great a stranger to commu- 
nion with God, and is as incapable of deriv- 
ing support and consolation from the gospel 
and its rich provisions, as the very pagan who 
bows before the dumb idol. There is not in 
the wide world, nor indeed in the universe, 
a substitute for the loss he has sustained in 
the death of a once beloved wife ; not a sin- 
gle object which can impart one cheering 
ray to his heart. Tell him of the virtues, the 
amiable qualities, of his late companion ; you 
only open the w^ounds in his heart, drive 



i48 

deeper the poniard of grief into his bleeding 
soul : for you thereby render more vivid and 
distressing the conviction that she is gone, 
she is his no more. Tell him of the mercy, 
the compassion of God ; of the wise and gra- 
cious designs of Providence in this painful 
bereavement ; you speak a language per- 
fectly unintelligible to him, which conveys 
no definite idea to his mind, and which, of 
course, can give him neither consolation nor 
support. The unbelief and impenitence of 
his heart repel these consolations, so well 
calculated to cheer and sustain the pious 
mind. The dark and cheerless suggestions 
of philosophy, or of infidelity cannot reach 
his case, nor remove the deep anguish which 
has seated itself in his soul. No support is 
derived from tracing back his affliction to 
some designing, intelligent, and gracious 
cause ; nor by viewing it connected with fu- 
ture and lasting benefit to himself: it springs, 
he knows not whence ; ii tends, he knows 
not whither. At this painful moment, his 
incoherent language, his violent exclama- 
tions, while they indicate the ardency of 
those affections now bereft of their object, 
and the agony of grief which he suffers, prove 
that he suffers without mitigation or relief, 
and that he knows not where to look for 
consolation and support. By one stroke of 



249 

affliction the world has become to him a 
perfect blank ; and unbelief and impiety have 
alienated his heart from that God who is a 
refuge in distress, a very present help in trou- 
ble. 

We have seen, on the other hand, a mo- 
ther, whose sensibility of heart has not been 
diminished, but refined and improved, by the 
influence of the Bible, imprinting the last 
solemn kiss on the lips of a beloved child, 
now cold in death ; a child whose compara- 
tive innocence, whose tenderness, whose 
loveliness had entwined it with every fibre 
of the heart ; a child which she had received 
as an important trust from God, to whom she 
devoutly commended it in prayer ; over 
which she had often pondered with mingled 
emotions ; sometimes with pleasing hopes of 
its future piety and usefulness to the church ; 
sometimes with pensive apprehensions res- 
pecting the dark volume of futurity ; at one 
time, rejoicing with it through scenes of 
prosperity and happiness ; at another recol- 
lecting the mutability of all sublunary pros- 
pects, the frailty and uncertainty of human 
life, clinging to it with unabated affection 
through seasons of adversity, with sleepless 
anxiety, watching, and soothing, and cherish- 
ing it through the last sad hours of sickness, 
pouring a mother's blessing on it, as the last 



250 

struggle and the last breath announce the 
departure of the spirit, and then resigning it 
to the grave, and commending herself to the 
mercy of her God and her Saviour. These 
last mournful anticipations have proved to 
be prophetic ; the last act of kindness, which 
maternal tenderness and affection could sug- 
gest, has been performed ; from her eye is 
now flowing the parting tear; her bosom is 
now heaving the last adieu. The language 
which grief permits her to use, or by which 
grief seeks to assuage itself, proves that her 
distress is not less poignant, than it would 
have been, if the Bible had not impressed 
on her heart the image of the Divine Sa- 
viour ; but it proves also that her distress is 
directed and controlled, and that she is sup- 
ported by the exercise of faith, and hope, 
and love. By the light of faith she traces 
back this affliction to a wise and holy design 
which was formed in the counsels of infinite 
wisdom, and which existed in the Divine 
mind before the foundations of the world. 
She sees that this affliction, with all its cir- 
cumstances, forms a part of a great plan, in- 
tended to prepare her for the joy of her 
Lord, for the rest and the bliss of heaven. 
With a firm though humble confidence, she 
believes it will work for her good, and pro- 
mote her spiritual advantage. She suffers, 



251 

indeed, but not as an orphan, without sharing 
in the tendeiest sympathies of friendship. 
She views the rod which afflicts her in the 
hand of fatherly compassion, every stroke of 
which is measured by love. Without one 
rebellious feeling, with meek and filial sub- 
mission, she resigns herself and her child to 
God, using the language of an afflicted saint 
of old. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away ', and then adding with a peculiar 
emphasis, which nothing but piety in distress 
could give ; blessed be the name of the Lord ! 
Few scenes are more impressive and use- 
ful, than to witness the Christian in afflic- 
tion ; blessing the hand that smites him ; 
giving up, without a murmur, the dearest 
earthly object of affection ; meeting the Sa.- 
viour who approaches with his animating 
voice on the waves of sorrow, which break 
all around him. Never does religion appear 
clothed in more lovely and heavenly at- 
traction, than when calming the bosom, and 
cheering the spirit of the child of God, when 
suffering the correction of his heavenly Fa- 
ther. Let others, with thoughtless eager- 
ness, rush to the house of feasting ; partake 
of the sumptuous provision, collected from 
the four quarters of the globe ; behold the 
splendours of wealth, and drown the reflec- 
tions of death and eternity, amidst the pomp 



252 

and the merriment of this world : lead me 
to the house of mourning, to witness the 
power of faith, and hope, and love, in com- 
forting and sustaining the Christian under 
the pressure of affliction ! 

Such is the Bible ; and such are the efifects 
which it is producing; and such are the 
strong claims which it has on the patronage 
and zeal of all who are friends to the culti- 
vation and improvement of the human intel- 
lect; friends to the good order, the peace, 
and prosperity of society ; friends to the real 
happiness of man ; friends to the cause of 
God. The most rational consolation and 
support, the purest joy which man, in this 
vale of sorrow, can taste ; the brightest days 
which this dark, and miserable, and sinful 
w^orld will ever witness ; will be owing to 
the influence of the Book of God. The 
most enrapturing delights, and the sublimest 
glories of heaven itself, will result from the 
influence of the gospel. 



